The World Is Changed
by Xanadu-King
Summary: First Fanfiction EVER! :D Also first crossover. Achilles has been having strange dreams. What will happen when these dreams draw him to the north. PatroclusxOc Teen for now may change.
1. Chapter 1

_The world is changed. I feel it in the water. I feel it in the earth. I smell it on the air. Much that once was is lost, for none now live who remember. It began with the forging of the great rings. Three were given to the elves, immortal, wisest, and fairest of all beings. Seven to the dwarf lords, great miners and crafts men of the mountain halls. And nine, nine rings were gifted to the race of men who above all else desired power. Within these rings was the strength and will to govern each race, but they were all of them deceived. In the lands of Mordor the dark lord Sauron forged in secret a master ring to control all others. And into this ring he poured his cruelty, his malice, and his will to dominate all life; One ring to rule them all._

**Chapter One**

Six months prior to the war with Troy

King Agamemnon was pacing his throne room when Nestor looked up from the map.

"Great King, our spies have reported it to be here" Nestor pointed to a place on the far edge of the map "From what the reports say the eighth of the nine is held at this location. If our spies can be trusted then we have come one step closer to placing you as the king of kings".

Agamemnon "Damn them all, they are all fools, they think I go to war over paltry things like money or land, no my goals are far grander than that. Once I have all nine of them upon my hands I shall be the greatest king of all time and the stones in the mountains will cry out my name, shouting 'Agamemnon, King of Kings'. Remember this old friend; history remembers the deeds of Kings, not soldiers. We simply need a reason to go to Troy and claim that ring". Nestor took his time to ponder over what was to be said before speaking knowing all too well that speaking out of turn in Agamemnon's court would cause one's life to end prematurely.

"Great King, your brother's wife Helen, I understand it that she is not happy in the marriage. Perhaps if you send word to your brother to make peace then he will attract the attention of Hector and his brother Paris. If the rumors about Paris are true then he will gladly take the hand of Helen. She will follow him back to Troy giving you a perfect reason to attack the Trojans. It will come at the cost of your brother's wife but she will be an easy enough price to repay". Agamemnon seemed lost in thought for a long time before responding.

"Yes that plan will work nicely, besides even if my brother meets with his demise in Troy it will give me a reason to keep fighting. Until I get all nine rings I will not give up my ambitions. Call an envoy to send a missive to my brother in Sparta. Tell him it is time for peace".

One month prior to the war with Troy

The sun was just reaching its zenith over Mycenae as Menelaus marched towards the great wooden doors of Agamemnon's hall. Before the guards had a chance to open the gate for him he burst through the furies swarming around his face. The common man could see the anguish and rage that ate at his heart. He marched right up to the great king's throne and stood there for a moment to let his brother greet him. Once the formalities were out of the way Menelaus began to speak.

"I want her back…"

Agamemnon looked thoughtfully at his brother and spoke in the most convincing voice he could muster "But of course you do, she is a beautiful woman."

"I want her back so that I may kill her with my own two hands. So that I can put that pretty boy Paris' head on a spear and watch her scream only to be silenced by my sword".

Agamemnon couldn't help but smile, his plan was working perfectly. "I thought you wanted peace with Troy?"

In his rage Menelaus spoke before he thought and rationalized as a fool would. "I should have listened to you brother."

Agamemnon's smile faded save for the corner of his mouth. "What did I say; peace is for the women and the weak. Empires are forged by war."

Menelaus was quiet for a minute before he spoke again, pondering what next to say to his brother. "All my life I have stood by your side and fought your enemies. You are the eldest and, therefore, reap the glory—that is the way of things. But have I ever complained? Have I ever asked you for anything?"

Agamemnon spoke again in a more serious tone "Never you are a man of Honor. Everyone in Greece knows this."

Menelaus spoke again barely containing his rage at the events that had occurred "The Trojans spat on my honor; an insult to me and an insult to you."

"And an insult to me is an insult to all of Greece." Agamemnon could not believe what he was hearing. His plan for gaining the ultimate prize was going better than he could have imagined. Menelaus was much more distraught by the loss of his wife than Agamemnon had ever hoped for.

Menelaus looked at his brother with fire burning in his eyes. "Will you go to war with me brother?" Agamemnon did not respond but merely nodded and clasped his brothers' hand within his own and brought him into a brotherly embrace.

Later that evening within Agamemnon's throne room he paced the floor awaiting Nestor's response. "You were absolutely right Nestor, my brother's wife was more useful than I could have ever imagined. Only the gods could have made such a woman to be so foolish."

Nestor looked up from the map "Great King, this is but phase one of our plans, phase two is to actually conquer Troy and take the ring from king Priam's finger. This task will not be an easy one, it is said that Troy can't be conquered."

Agamemnon stopped pacing and walked over and slammed his scepter down on the table on top of the map. "They have never faced me in war!" Agamemnon's fury was clearly visible to his old friend. "Do you see this ring! It was passed down from father to eldest son for generations. I am the tenth son to wear this ring and I tell you now that I will have all the other eight. So far I have only taken seven from the other kings. It is my goal to obtain all nine of the rings. Once I have them all I will be the greatest king to ever live, and no one shall challenge my right to sovereign rule!" Agamemnon fumed for a few minutes before calming down again, it was at this time that Nestor chose to speak again.

"My king we will need Achilles and his Myrmidons." Agamemnon looked at Nestor with a distraught look upon his face.

"No, that man, he can't be controlled. He is as likely to fight us as he is the Trojans."

"We needn't control him my king, we need to unleash him." Agamemnon gave a sigh of defeat. He knew that without Achilles and the Myrmidons they would never be able to take Troy.

"Fine, but there is only one man he will listen to."

Five months prior to the war with Troy

"Achilles… Achilles, wake up, we need to train. Who knows, perhaps a great war is going on right now and you will never know of it because you slept right through the battle."

Achilles let out a groan, he loved his cousin but the annoying things Patroclus would go through to try and rouse him from a good nights rest would often leave Achilles wondering why he was left as the caretaker to such a young boy. Nonetheless Achilles got up from the bed and put on his tunic. "Patroclus, what time of day is it? Have we passed noon?"

"Just nearly cousin, I thought I should wake you before noon, seeing as you usually like to spend two to three hours training. That and I have been working on a few new tricks, perhaps I can show you them."

"Don't get too ahead of your self, learning new tools for killing is good and all, but useless unless you know when and how to use them. Remember that men need a purpose to fight, without one they will die without ever knowing life."

The two cousins sat down at the table. Food made early that day by the slaves was laid out on the table. From the salad with fennel, roasted garlic, radishes, and leeks; to the spit roasted lamb with an Olive oil and saffron marinade. Achilles had one of the slaves make him a plate of food. The thing he wanted most was a large side of boar and a goblet of wine to wake him up, but unfortunately boar was scarce this season, so instead he settled for the lamb. He did his best to lead by example, like his father King Peleus before him had done. Only taking what was available and not indulging too much in the opulence that was most often granted to kings.

"The food is especially good today, cousin. I have to say your slaves have outdone themselves once again."

"As usual you are quick to give praise to someone who does not deserve it; yes the slaves cooked the food but only at the order of our chef. Remember to think before you act or speak, Patroclus, lest you find yourself at the wrong end of a sword on a bad day. The gods may interfere with men's lives to a degree but not even the fates can be told what to do by the gods."

"I am sorry cousin, you are right. I will do my best to think before I respond to anything."

Achilles smiled at this, he loved his cousin but sometimes his cousin could be too serious. "Well you had best not think too long, lest you get lost within your own thoughts."

The two sat in silence eating for a while. They were about to finish and go outside for the day's training when a messenger came running up to the two of them. "My lords-" the messenger paused a minute to catch his breath. "Take your time we wouldn't want the gods removing you from this world before your task is complete."

"Thank you my lords…" For a long time the only thing the messenger did was breathe. Finally the messenger spoke up "My lords, I have been sent here to give you this." The messenger held out a scroll and handed it to Achilles.

"What exactly is this supposed to be?" Achilles was cautious as he picked up the letter. He was carful to check for any surprise traps since more than one assassination attempt had been tried on his life. None had succeeded but still he was taking the road of caution, just to be sure.

"It is a missive, from who I am unaware but I was handed this by a man in a grey cloak atop a horse. He told me to run this to you as fast as possible. He paid handsomely in gold; enough in fact to allow me to buy my own land with farm hands."

"Go then, live the rest of your life in ease." The messenger nodded and ran off. Patroclus leaned over to see what the message said.

"I am unfamiliar with this writing, cousin; do you know what it says?"

"I do Patroclus; it is a message from a friend of my father's. It was intended for him I believe, for only my father knew of these people. In all his wisdom he never sought to share this knowledge with me before he became a shade. I was lucky enough to learn the language, I would often spend nights studying this text in order to read it for the day I became king. For some reason when I did ask my father about it he avoided the topic, anyways the letter reads as follows

'_Dearest friend Peleus,_

_ I do hope you are doing well, you know that I would not be writing to you in this language unless it was urgent and no one else could know. The eyes of our enemy are moving. His gaze is still stuck to the north but for how long I do not know. The ring that I gave you for safe keeping, you must bring it with you to our capital five years from now. It needs to be placed in a vault until the One Ring can be destroyed. Once that is done its powers will fade and it can once again be used as a family ring. I have sent missives to all the other peoples of middle earth and await their response. You are the only one that I have fully trusted throughout all these years and I know you will not let me down; until we meet again in Rivendell. _

_Sincerely_

_E.'_

Achilles and Patroclus both looked at each other with a puzzled look. Both of them thought, but neither asked, who was this E. person and where in the name of Zeus was Rivendell?

Three weeks until the war with Troy

Patroclus and Achilles were out on the training ground practicing their sword play. As Patroclus came around for a back slice, Achilles side-stepped him, swinging behind his arm and moving his blade so that it was placed against the side of Patroclus' neck. Patroclus was quick but not as quick as his cousin, he knew exactly what was going to happen but never had he been able to counter Achilles' moves. Achilles released him from his grasp and got back into a fighting stance. Patroclus did the same but instead of attacking he goaded Achilles into attacking him. As Achilles lunged at his cousin Patroclus parried and came in putting his sword up to Achilles chest.

"Scared?" Patroclus gloated, believing victory to be at hand. Foolishly Patroclus let his guard down allowing Achilles to grab his wrist and twist it behind his back placing his own practice sword against the middle of Patroclus' back.

"Petrified." Patroclus was let loose from Achilles' attack. He then lunged at Achilles and brought his sword up in an upward slash across Achilles' chest. As he did so he left his entire right side of his body wide open, Achilles used this to switch his sword hands behind his back and bring the practice sword up to his cousin's neck.

"You taught me never to change sword hands."

"Once you learn how to use one, you won't be taking orders from me." At that moment Achilles removed Patroclus' sword and threw his own on the ground. He walked over to the spear lying with his armor and picked it up. He aimed and threw the spear; its target hit dead center. Behind the target at the level of the spear head was Odysseus riding on horseback to talk with Achilles.

Odysseus walked up to the training ground with the two legendary warriors. "Your reputation for hospitality is fast becoming legend." Odysseus let out a light chuckle as the tossed the spear back to Achilles. He caught it with little effort and tossed it to the side.

"Patroclus my cousin; Odysseus king of Ithica."

Odysseus' smile faded when his eyes landed upon the young warrior. "Patroclus, I knew your parents well. I miss them. Now you have this one watching over you, eh? Learning from Achilles himself, kings would kill for the honor."

"Are you here at Agamemnon's bidding?" Odysseus silenced himself for a moment as he rubbed his beard thinking about what to say to the legendary warrior king.

"We need to talk." The two men walked away from Patroclus.

"I will not fight for him."

"I am not asking you to fight for him; I am asking you to fight for the Greeks."

"Why? Are the Greeks tired of fighting each other?" His sarcastic tone was so deafening that it almost drowned Odysseus' own wit.

"For now." Achilles smiled at this statement as though he was remembering a personal joke.

"The Trojans never harmed me."

"They insulted Greece."

"They insulted one Greek, a man who couldn't hold on to his wife, what business is that of mine?"

"Your business is war my friend."

"Is it, the man has no honor."

"Let Achilles fight for honor; let Agamemnon fight for power; and let the gods decided which man to glorify."

"For the Greeks!" Patroclus said as he lunged at Achilles for a, hopefully, surprise attack. To his dismay Achilles was fully prepared for him and parried his attack with an attack of his own.

"Forget Agamemnon, fight for me. My wife will feel much better knowing that you're by my side; I'll feel much better." As Odysseus spoke he couldn't help but watch the warrior fight. "We're sending the largest fleet that ever sailed; a thousand ships."

Patroclus spoke up this time "Prince Hector; is he as good a warrior as they say?"

"The best of all the Trojans. Some say he is better than all the Greeks too."

At Odysseus' words Achilles had a small twitch in his arm. Nothing that would have been noticeable if you weren't looking, but Odysseus was looking and looking intently. He wanted to get Achilles riled up; it was the only way that a great warrior like Achilles would ever consider joining them in the war to come.

"Even if your cousin doesn't come I do hope you will, Patroclus. We could use another strong arm like yours."

"Play your tricks on me but not my cousin." Achilles had lost all humor in his voice, if there was one thing he could not stand it was men trying to manipulate those he cared about.

"You have your sword, I have my tricks. We play with the toys that the gods give us. We sail for Troy in three days." Odysseus started to walk away only to stop at the top of the steps. "This war will never be forgotten, nor will the heroes who fight in it."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

"Hahaha," Bilbo laughed heartily as he removed the ring from his finger. He flipped the ring in the air, caught it and pocketed the small golden circle. He began to run about his house, gathering the things he would need on his journey. He picked up a walking stick and checked its height before deciding which one to use. Walking into his main study, he was startled by a familiar voice.

"I suppose you think that was terribly funny." Gandalf looked at Bilbo with a stern face.

"Oh come on Gandalf; did you see their faces?" Bilbo couldn't help but laugh at his handiwork.

"There are many magic rings in this world Bilbo Baggins, and none of them should be used lightly."

"It was just a bit of fun!" Bilbo spoke as innocently as possible. "Oh you're probably right, as usual." Bilbo let out a soft sigh. He walked to his mantle, over the fireplace and picked up his pipe. "You will keep an eye on Frodo, won't you?"

"Two eyes, as often as I can spare them."

"I'm leaving everything to him."

"What about this ring of yours; is that staying too?"

"Yes yes, it is in an envelope on the mantle…no… wait… it's here… in my pocket." Bilbo let out a slight chuckle. "Isn't that - Isn't that odd. Yet, after all, why not? Why shouldn't I keep it?"

"I think you should leave the ring behind, Bilbo. Is that so hard?"

"Well no…and yes. Now that it comes to it I don't feel like parting with it. It's mine, I found it! It came to ME!"

Gandalf looked a little surprised by this. In all his years of knowing Bilbo he had never acted this way about anything. "There is no need to get angry."

Bilbo turned his head to look at Gandalf from the corner of his eye. "What if I am angry? It's your fault!" Bilbo turned his head back to stare at the golden ring. "It's mine, my own, my precious."

"Precious? It has been called that before but not by you."

"What business is it of yours what I do with my own things?"

Gandalf was getting annoyed now; this was not the friend he had known for sixty years. This was someone else, someone who was obsessed with an inanimate object. "I think you have had that ring for long enough." Gandalf's voice was stern but still caring.

Bilbo stared at him, his fists shook with anger "You want it for yourself!"

This hurt Gandalf, never had his friend accused him of being greedy for anything. At this Gandalf let his rage be known, the room grew dark and all the light that was keeping the study bright and warm suddenly faded as though it was running from the power of Gandalf's anger. "BILBO BAGGINS! Do not take me for some conjurer of cheap tricks! I am not trying to rob you!" Gandalf calmed down and the room gained its warm qualities again. "I am trying to help you." Gandalf looked at his friend and smiled. With that smile Bilbo broke down and walked into the old wizards arms.

Gandalf kneeled to be at eye level with his friend, "All these long years we have been friends. Trust me as you once did. Let it go."

Bilbo let out a sigh and agreed, "You're right Gandalf. The ring must go to Frodo. It is late and the road is long. Yes, it is time." Bilbo picked up his bag and began to walk out the door.

Just as he reached the threshold Gandalf spoke to him again. "Bilbo, the ring is still in your pocket."

Bilbo looks at Gandalf and gives him a sad smile, as though he had honestly forgotten about the ring. "Oh, yes…"

Bilbo pulled the ring out of his pocket and held it in his hand for a minute. As Bilbo stared at the ring he slowly began to turn his hand to the side; the ring inching ever closer to the edge of his hand. Until it finally dropped from Bilbo's hand and hit the ground with a metallic thud. The ring span for a second until it came to a complete stop. Bilbo looked away from the ring and walked out his door onto his patio steps. Just before he left his house for good, he stopped.

"I just thought up an ending to my book…" Bilbo turned around to face Gandalf. "And he lives happily ever after, until the end of his days."

Gandalf smiled at his old friend, "And I am sure he will."

Bilbo held out his hand to Gandalf. They shook each other's hands warmly, "Good Bye Gandalf."

"Good Bye dear Bilbo."

As Bilbo walked away, he began to sing a traveler's tune _"The road goes ever on and on. Down from the door where it began…"_ Bilbo's voice faded in the distance.

"Until our next meeting," Gandalf turned around and headed back into the house. He stopped in front of the golden ring and bent over to pick it up. Just before he touched it, a great eye flashed within his mind, the eye was wreathed in flame and had a black slit pupil. The sight of this made Gandalf recoil from touching the ring, instead he went and sat down in the study in front of the fireplace to smoke long-bottom leaf as he mulled over the words that Bilbo had said before he let the ring go.

Two hours later

Frodo came barging in to his uncle's house. He stopped in the door way and shouted in for his uncle.

"Bilbo?" no response came from the house. He took another step forward and felt a piece of cool metal on his foot. He looked down to see the ring his uncle always had with him and cherished so much.

"He's gone, isn't he? He always talked about going but I never thought he would do it."

Gandalf had not noticed that Frodo had walked in, still mumbling to himself, "Riddles in the Dark. . ."

Frodo came and stood in front of Gandalf. "Hmm?" Gandalf looked down to see Frodo holding the ring. Gandalf face lit up, as though he was thinking fondly of Bilbo. "Bilbo's ring. . ."

"Bilbo's gone to stay with the elves; he's left you Bagend…" Gandalf paused for a moment to hold out an envelope for Frodo to put the ring into. Frodo looked at it for a minute and carefully slipped the ring inside of the envelope. ". . . Along with all of his possessions." Gandalf's speech was quick and somewhat frantic as he sealed the ring within the envelope. "The ring is yours now." He carefully handed the envelope back to Frodo, making sure not to touch the area the ring was in. "Put it out of sight." Gandalf's voice was so serious that Frodo simply nodded in response. He had never seen Gandalf so distressed about anything before.

Gandalf began to gather his things and head for the door. "Where are you going?" Frodo's distress about Gandalf leaving so suddenly was very apparent.

"I have things I need to attend to."

"What things?"

"Questions, questions that need answering."

"But you have only just arrived! I don't understand."

Gandalf turned to look Frodo in the eye just before he walked out the door. "Neither do I." Gandalf placed a hand on Frodo's shoulder. "Keep it secret. Keep it safe." With that, Gandalf walked out the door, leaving Frodo standing their alone. He looks down at the envelope and wonders _'Why? Why was it so urgent that he could not tell me?'_

**XXXXX**

Achilles looked out from the bow of his ship. The black sails furrowed under the sun. It had been three days since they set out from Greece. Their target destination was Troy, a city on the edge of Asia. Achilles had not gone out of revenge; that was Menelaus' job. Nor was he going out of a sense of duty to Agamemnon. He would never fight for that man. He would sometimes fight with him, but more often than not he would fight against him. No, Achilles was going because this war would gift him the one thing he had always wanted. Immortal fame, knowing that immortality was impossible for a human to obtain without the aid of the gods, the next best thing was to have his name remembered for all time until the ending of the world.

"Lord Achilles, we should be reaching the Trojan beaches by noon tomorrow."

"Good Eudoros, tell the men to take it easy and let Poseidon guide our voyage with favorable winds until we can see the beaches of Troy."

"Yes sir." Eudoros turned around and barked orders to the men which they followed without question. Thirty minutes later the Myrmidons were sitting around talking about the glory they would gain in battle with the Trojans, or playing games on the ship as it listlessly sailed to its destination in the east.

The hours passed by slowly for Achilles. He was not one for games or conversations of glory. He wanted only one thing, that was to be the best in the entire world and remembered for it. With someone challenging that title, he would find a way to bring them down so fast that their name would be shattered into the veils of history. He laid down in the boat and slipped into an aggravated sleep. In his sleep he dreamt of Troy and of the battles to come. But most of all he dreamt of a shadow, a dark force rising to the north; one that would drown out all his accomplishments in Troy. He could see nothing in this shadow save the ever-looming orange light in the distance. For a moment he thought it looked like an eye, but as soon as he tried to focus on it, the image vanished. Deep within his mind he heard a voice. It was phantasmal and disjointed from its creator but it rang out loud in his mind. The voice said one thing; _'I see you'_. As the voice said this, it began to laugh in a twisted laugh that turned Achilles' blood cold. Never before had he been so disturbed by something as he was then.

"My lord?"

Achilles' eyes shot open and he launched himself up from the planks of wood, sword in hand ready to strike at this terrible foe that tortured his mind. He looked to find Eudoros over him with a concerned look on his face. "What is it Eudoros?"

"My lord, I don't mean to be rude but you were talking in your sleep. You kept saying _'stay away, stay away, get out, get out!'_ The men and I we're concerned. Are you feeling all right, my lord?"

Achilles looked stunned for a minute. Had he been so scared of this phantom that he had spoken out loud? Either way he did not want to show any fear to his men. He put on a strong face and stood up.

"Everything is fine men, return to what you were doing. It was simply a dream granted by Phobetor, nothing to be concerned over."

"Very well, my lord. You heard him men, just a dream. Return to what you were doing!" Eudoros looked back at Achilles with a concerned look in his eye, but never mentioned it to his king. As for Achilles, he drifted into a blissful sleep. Certain what he had seen was, in fact, just a dream, like he had said. The rest of his dreams were of his home in Phthia and the emerald blue sea in which he would play as a child.

…..

"Raise sails!" Eudoros' voice rang out among the Myrmidons. Each man took to his task. Some getting into the seats to row, others pulling the sail up to keep it from being shot at with flaming arrows.

"Eudoros, tell the men to row until we coast at a fast enough speed to slide us upon the shore. Then tell them to get ready for war."

Eudoros nodded and explained everything to his men. The fleet of black-sailed ships were ten thousand yards from the shore when the men got up and began to suit up for battle. Once they were all suited up they stood looking at Achilles. Achilles was proud. He was proud of the men who had followed him on this foolish war venture, and he was proud to call each and every one of them friend.

Achilles got up on the prow of the ship and began to speak. "Myrmidons!" Each man on every one of the black-sailed ships looked at Achilles as he spoke. "We have faced many foes together." The men on each ship let out a military chant. "We have fought together, bled together, and died together. I would not trade any warrior in all of Greece for any of you men." The men let two more military chants. "Look upon that beach. I see one thing waiting for you - Glory, take it, it's yours!" With that the men let out a cheer in victory.

The Trojans had been expecting this. For the past week they had been preparing, arming each and every man with their weapons for war. The beach was heavily fortified. Three rows of wooden spikes to keep solders from coming up in formation. Behind each row of spikes were archers with arrows knocked and ready. The archers waited until the pentekonters came within range before they started firing their arrows.

As the ships began to get closer to the shore, the men put up their shields in order to defend themselves from any possible arrow fire. Shortly after they had done this, the first volley came. Most of the arrows simply bounced off the curved shields. One man was not as lucky. An arrow bounced off another shield and pierced him in the eye. The man let out a sickening scream as he began to try and grab the arrow. While he was trying to remove the arrow from his eye the next volley came, the man fell down dead with six arrows in his body. Two in his throat, three in his head and one in his chest, as the blood pooled around the man's body Patroclus couldn't help but feel sorry for the man. It was sad to see the fates throw such a cruel twist to a man who had just started not two seasons ago.

The Myrmidons were close enough now to hear the men shouting 'Volley', with each wave of arrows. As the pentekonters ran aground the arrows stopped firing. It was Achilles who jumped off the lead pentekonter first, as he hit the ground the next wave of arrows came. This time the arrows were ablaze, kindled by the fire braziers next to each archer. As the flaming arrows came crashing down they engulfed multiple ships in flame. The soldiers that were unable to make it off the ships in time died in an inferno. The only solace that kept Patroclus going was the knowledge that they would not need to burn their corpses that night.

In his ship one league away, and closing fast, was Agamemnon. On board Nestor spoke "Great king, black sails, it is Achilles and his Myrmidons. Some appear to be engulfed in flames. Perhaps this truly is the end for Achilles and his men."

Agamemnon looked at the blazing ship and scowled. "No, old friend. If a fire could kill Achilles and his Myrmidons then they would have been dead long ago. Look! There they are on the beach." Agamemnon pointed and paused for a moment to watch the Myrmidons massacre each of the Trojan beach defenders. "The man wants to die. Does he expect to take the beaches of Troy with fifty men?"

Nestor was silent for a while watching the professional killers do what they do best.

"Great king, perhaps you can use Achilles and his Myrmidon's victories here on the beaches to your advantage. You can say that you ordered Achilles to take the beaches. With how much the soldiers love Achilles you would be loved even more, knowing that you ordered the greatest hero to attack and take a beach for all of the Greeks."

Agamemnon thought about this for a minute. He hated the idea of Achilles taking glory for himself. He thought that removing himself from this clear failure, as he saw it, was the best possibility to save his image as the undefeated king. He was, until he heard the chants of the soldiers, even on his own ship. Each and every one of the fifty thousand Greeks were chanting "Achilles! Achilles! Achilles!"

"It would appear that you are right once again Nestor, if you keep being right I might replace you with the oracle of Delphi."

"My king, you are too kind."

"Might, I still have my doubts about the idea. First being, you would make an ugly woman." Agamemnon smiled at his own wit as did Nestor.

Achilles and his Myrmidon had moved up the beach and were now heading towards the temple of Apollo. Each soldier that came in his path was quickly cut down. One soldier almost stabbed him with a spear but Achilles quickly deflected it to his left with a flick of his blade. He grabbed the spear and pushed it behind him stabbing another soldier who was coming in for a rear attack. As he pulled the spear behind him he brought his sword forward, effectively killing both soldiers with one blow.

Back at sea Ajax looked upon the battle scene with contempt. "Look at 'em, hogging all the glory." The huge man turned around and threw one of his oars men out of his seat and sat down in his place and shouted to his oars men, "Row, you lazy whores! Row! Greeks are dying!" He would be damned if he wasn't there during the first battle, getting some glory for himself.

Patroclus was doing well for himself for just starting out. He had trained with Achilles for years to be ready for any wars that would come. Throughout all his training he had never understood what his cousin meant by it when he spoke of Warriors Instinct. It wasn't until he was out on the battlefield that he truly understood. As he fought, the movements of his enemies seemed strangely slow. The overall effect was that defending himself from attacks and killing his enemies seemed to flow more naturally. The Warriors Instinct gave him a heightened awareness of his surroundings and the ability to determine the greatest threat at any given time.

As Achilles had made his way to the top of the temple stairs, the last guard put up his shield in defense against Achilles attacks, but to no avail. Achilles picked up a second sword and began to slash the two swords in a spiral downward motion. The First hit knocked the soldier's blade out of the way. The second hit knocked the soldier off balance. The third strike hit the soldier squarely on the head sinking deep into his skull. The soldier crumpled over blood running out of the wound in his head. Achilles looked back, his breath steady, his hands solid, and watched the other ships land on the beaches of Troy. In the back round he heard the chants of the soldiers of Greece as the Trojan beach defenders fled. The continuous chant, "Achilles! Achilles! Achilles!" made him endlessly pleased with himself and the brutally efficient work he had done.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Two years had passed since Gandalf had gone to gather his information. In all that time Frodo had thought about Gandalf and how he missed him but his mind never dwelled upon the little golden ring hidden away in his wooden chest full of maps. Today was a day like any other, things happened as they always had. Nothing in fact had changed except for the knowledge that the Sackville-Bagginses now hated him for being given the one thing they had always wanted. Frodo picked up the four mugs of ale from Rose and thanked her.

Pippin and Merry were stomping on the table as they sang _"Hey Ho to the bottle I go! To heal my heart and drown my woe. Rain may fall and wind may blow- But there still be many miles to go!"_

"_Sweet is the sound of the pouring rain, and the stream that falls from hill to plain. Better than rain or a rippling brook."_

Then Pippin sang alone, "_There's a mug of ale inside this Took!"_ With that everyone in the bar cheered and laughed. It was a happy place, full of laughter and life. However not everything was always so lighthearted. The Hobbits, though caring nothing for the outside world, some knew of it. Four Hobbits were sitting at a table waiting for Frodo to bring back their mugs of ale.

Gaffer leaned in and spoke first about what they were all thinking. "Lot of folk been crossing the Shire lately, Dwarves and others of a less than savory nature." The look in the old Hobbit's eyes were grim but not dark. He knew things were happening but, like most Hobbits, had the ideals of isolationism.

Noakes acknowledged what Gaffer had started. "War's brewing. The mountains are fare teeming with goblins." Most of the other Hobbits nodded their heads in agreement.

Sandyman was not one to believe anything unless he saw it for himself. He was under the impression, like most Hobbits, that the world outside of the shire did not exist. "Children's stories that's all it was. You're beginning to sound like that old Bilbo Baggins. Cracked he was!" Sandyman let out a hearty laugh at this, feeling that his own joke about Bilbo was a great one. The only one of the four Hobbits who didn't speak up was Sam, who was content to sit and listen to the older Hobbits while he stared at Rose from across the bar.

Frodo sat back down at the table and handed the men their drinks. Gaffer laughs at him. "Young Mr. Frodo, he's cracking!" Everyone, including Frodo laughed at that.

"And proud of it, thank you. Cheers Gaffer!" Frodo's smile never faded, he was still in love with the Shire - its people, its culture, its atmosphere.

All the Hobbits sitting at the table spoke at the same time. "Cheers!"

As Frodo and Sam left the Green Dragon they began to walk back to their houses. Sam, clearly inebriated from the drinks stumbled back to his house leaving Frodo at his gate. Frodo waved goodbye to Sam, and Sam, in return, gave a half-hearted wave as he stumbled into the night. When Frodo entered his house he noticed that his window was open. He was positive he had closed it before he left to go to the Green Dragon with Merry, Pippin, and Sam.

As he looked around, something didn't feel right to him. He felt as though there was another presence there that he just couldn't place. He turned to face the study where the wind was blowing the maps around when a hand came out of the shadows. It grabbed him by the shoulder and wheeled him around. It was Gandalf, but a terrified look covered his face, as though he had been keeping a terrible secret.

"Is it secret? IS IT SAFE?" Gandalf's words were frantic.

A few minutes later, after Frodo had lit a few candles, he went over to the chest and removed the scrolls covering the small envelope. He pulled out the little package and held it up to the light.

"Here it is."

Gandalf quickly snatched it out of Frodo's hand and threw it into the now roaring fire.

Frodo's look of bewilderment was clear on his face. "What are you doing?"

After a minute Gandalf took some tongs and went into the fireplace to grab the ring. He held it out to Frodo. Frodo looked at Gandalf as though he was mad.

"Take it, it's quite cool."

With an uneasy gaze he held out his hand to accept the golden ring. As Gandalf dropped it into his hand he flinched preparing to drop it at the slightest sense of heat from it. Surprisingly, it was in fact cool just as Gandalf had said. Gandalf stood up from the chair and walked towards the window.

"Do you see anything? Is anything on the ring?"

Frodo looked closely at the ring, "No, nothing…" Frodo paused for a minute "wait, there is something – writing. It is some form of Elvish, I can't read it."

Gandalf let out a depressed sigh and turned around to face Frodo.

"There are few who can. It is the language of Mordor, of which I will not utter here. In the common tongue it says, '_One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them, One Ring to bring them all, and in the darkness bind them_.'"

Frodo and Gandalf were sitting at the table in the kitchen. Frodo poured hot water over the tea leaves to let them soak before pouring the tea. Gandalf spoke, but his tone was bleak. He had hoped to all the Valar that this was not the One Ring but fate had sent them all for a twist when it found it's way to Bilbo. Gandalf went on to explain to Frodo how in the two years that he was gone he had spent the time looking over all the records he could find on the Ring of Sauron.

"This is the One Ring, forged by the Dark Lord in the fires of Mount Doom. Taken by Isildur from the hand of Sauron himself."

Frodo looked away from Gandalf's face towards the Ring, the horror of this knowledge finally coming to the forefront of his mind. "Bilbo found it…in Gollum's cave."

"And for sixty years it has laid silent in Bilbo's keeping. Prolonging his life and delaying old age, but no longer. Evil is stirring in the east, the Ring has awakened. It's heard its master's call."

"But he was destroyed. Sauron was destroyed." As Frodo spoke the Dark Lord's name they could hear the Ring whisper calling out for its master.

"No, Frodo. The Spirit of Sauron endured. His life force is bound to the Ring and the Ring survived. His Orcs have multiplied and his fortress of Barad-Dûr is rebuilt. Sauron only needs this Ring to cover all the land in a second darkness. He is seeking it, oh he is seeking it. All his thoughts are bent on it. The Ring yearns to return to the hand of its master. They are one the Ring, and the Dark Lord. Frodo, he must never find it."

Frodo franticly grabbed the Ring and stood up and walked out of the kitchen. He looked around for a good place to put it "Alright, then we put it away, hide it from the world, and never speak of it again. No one knows it's here, do they Gandalf?" Gandalf's response didn't come, which made Frodo even more nervous. He turned around to see Gandalf standing in the archway. "Do they?"

Gandalf looked sadly into Frodo's eyes. "There was one other who knew of the Ring's location. I looked everywhere for the creature Gollum but the enemy found him first. I don't know how long they tortured him, but beneath the inane babble and cries of agony they discerned two words; Shire and Baggins."

Frodo's look of fear grew into sheer panic "Shire? Baggins? But that would lead them here!"

Fifteen miles away a Hobbit heard something outside and went out to investigate. "Who goes there?" The Hobbit had a shocked look upon his face when he saw three Riders in Black running up, the lead one drew his sword and slashed it across the Hobbit's neck. As the Hobbit fell down, blood gurgled from the wound as air and blood mixed in a frantic escape from his body.

Frodo held out the Ring. "Take it, Gandalf!"

"No, Frodo." Gandalf backed away a little only to be followed by Frodo.

"You must take it!"

"You cannot offer me this Ring." Gandalf backed away again. He was doing his best to make Frodo understand. But Frodo was working solely out of fear; he did not comprehend Gandalf's retreating.

"I am giving it to you!"

Gandalf could take no more, if Frodo kept offering the Ring he would surely give into his desire. "Don't tempt me Frodo!" There was a long pause before Gandalf spoke again. "You must understand Frodo, if I were to take this Ring I would use it in an effort to do good, but through me it would wield a power too terrible and great to imagine." Frodo looked at Gandalf, begging him for an answer.

"But it cannot stay in the Shire."

Gandalf walked up to Frodo and kneeled in front of him and closed the Hobbit's hand around the Ring. "No, no it can not."

Frodo knew that look in Gandalf's eyes. It was the look of understanding everything has occurred in a different way than anyone had hoped. "What must I do?"

Frodo and Gandalf ran about the house gathering things for Frodo to take on his journey.

"You must leave quickly." Frodo packs his clothes into his bag franticly not taking heed to the work Gandalf put into each piece of clothing that he meticulously rolled to fit better.

"Where will I go?"

"Make for the village of Bree."

"Right, Bree…and what about you?"

"I will be waiting for you at the inn of the Prancing pony."

Frodo finished putting on his bag and cloak, and Gandalf only looked at him and smiled.

"My dear Frodo, you can learn all that there is to know about Hobbits in a year and in a hundred years they can still surprise you." He placed a hand on Frodo's shoulder, about to send him out the door, when they heard a noise outside of Frodo's window. Both of them looked at the window, eyes wide, expecting the worst.

"Get down." With those words Frodo dropped to the floor awaiting Gandalf's signal that all was safe.

Gandalf walked over to the window carefully, staff in hand. As he approached the window he stuck his staff out into the garden and hit the object that had made the noise. All they heard was a muffled, "Oomph!"

Gandalf reached down and grabbed the eavesdropper by the collar and hauled him into the study. It was, of all people, Samwise Gamgee.

"Confound it all Samwise Gamgee! Have you been eavesdropping?" Gandalf's face was so serious it could make a rabbit turn to stone under his gaze.

Sam was frantic now; he was terrified of what Gandalf would do to him. "I haven't been dropping no eaves sir, honest. I was just cutting the grass there under the window."

"A little late for cutting the verge isn't it?"

"I hear razed voices." Sam was so terrified that it seemed as though he was going to cry out of fear.

"What did you hear? Speak!"

"N-nothing much sir, just something about a Ring, and an evil dark lord, and something about the end of the world. Please Mr. Gandalf; don't turn me into anything…unnatural."

"No?" Gandalf looks up at Frodo who smiled broadly, as if to say, _well you have had enough fun torturing him_. "I've got a better idea for you."

The three companions quickly moved away from the Shire, bags loaded with stuff to take with them on there journey. Frodo was walking next to Gandalf who was leading a horse along next to them. Sam was doing his best to keep up but was lagging behind severely.

"Come along Samwise, keep up." Gandalf's tone was serious; he was still upset at Sam for eavesdropping but felt that this was the best option.

The three entered a wooded grove just outside of Hobbiton. The party stopped and Gandalf turned around to talk to the two Hobbits, but mostly to Frodo.

"Be careful, the both of you. The enemy has many spies in his service, birds, and beasts." This time Gandalf specifically talked to Frodo. "Is it safe?" Frodo nodded and placed a hand over the breast pocked of his jacket. "Never put it on. The agents of the Dark Lord are drawn to its power. Always remember Frodo, the Ring wants to be found. Now then, I must leave the two of you; I need to see the head of my order. Be safe."

With that, Gandalf rode off away from the two Hobbits, leaving them to find their way.

XXXXX

It had been three weeks since the war with Troy had started. In all that time only minor skirmishes had been fought. Achilles was getting restless; this lack of war was driving him up the wall. No war would have been good, if there was no one to fight, but with an enemy sitting just a few miles to the east, he could not stand the long slow breaths between the combat. On top of that his dreams had become more and more terrifying of late. It was as though his dreams were compelling him to the north. Achilles believed the gods existed but he never gave them much credence. But lately he had been rethinking his position and perhaps his understanding.

Achilles sat in his tent with his head in his hands thinking about the dream from last night. It was not a pleasant one, to say the least. He saw hideously ugly creatures. It was hard to explain, but one thing was certain; they had a disgustingly green-colored skin, as though it was permanently being rotted away by disease. Along with the eyes, the eyes varied, but not much, on the one hand were the yellow eyes that looked as though they had been colored with the yolk of an egg. While others looked red as the blood that flows through a man's veins. He was so lost in thought that he didn't notice when Patroclus walked in.

"Cousin, are you okay?"

"Hmm?" Achilles looked up to see his cousin standing a few feet away from him, wearing the blue tunic that signified Phthian royalty. "Oh yes, I am fine…I just need some rest." Achilles shooed Patroclus out of his tent. Just as Patroclus was about to go, Achilles stopped him "Wait, I have a request. Send for Odysseus. I wish to speak with him."

"Certainly, cousin." With that, Patroclus walked out to fetch the Ithican king.

Ten minutes later Odysseus walked into Achilles' tent to find him laying on his fur-covered cot. Odysseus was about to walk out when he was stopped by Achilles' voice. "I need your advice."

"Well, this is an interesting turn of events. The great and mighty Achilles seeking advice. What ever it is, it must be a grave thing indeed to have you seek out the aid of another."

"Do you know anything about the lands to the north of Greece?"

Odysseus was puzzled by this, never before had the Phthian king given any credence to anything outside of Greece, feeling that it was only full of Barbarians and killers.

"Some, but why do you ask this now? Have you been sent a note, or something of the like?"

"Yes and no, I am not sure. If I could I would tell you but every time I try to think of what it is I am lost in a shadow that seems inescapable. This shadow is engulfing and ever-expanding, as though nothing is beyond its reach. I first though this shadow was Agamemnon but not even the shadow of Agamemnon will come close to reaching this height. This shadow has caused me great fear. I fear to close my eyes to see it again. One thing keeps playing in my mind that is telling me to go to the north, a voice that keeps saying _'I see you; you cannot hide from me'_. Many times have I heard this voice and each time it seems to be coming from the north. I think I may need to travel north to quell my fears."

Odysseus was quiet for a while, with a sad look upon his face. He knew of what his friend spoke of, for he had seen it too. The only thing keeping him there at Troy was a sense of duty to Agamemnon.

"You are not alone, my friend. I too feel the need to travel north. Perhaps we should go; if we do we might be able to squelch each other's fears."

Achilles looked puzzled by this. "What fears could you possibly have? You live each day as though it is nothing, all the time in the world for anything and everything. You are the most relaxed of all the Kings here on this foolish venture, why should you loose sleep over a dream?"

"I do not dream, I see. These are no dreams, my friend, but visions of the future to come if we don't put a stop to it. I think we are needed in the north to aid someone in defeating this terrible shadow."

Achilles liked this idea, to leave Agamemnon without any of his greatest warriors or his wisest advisor would cripple the king and his army. Without a second thought Achilles jumped up from the cot and walked outside.

"Eudoros!"

"Yes, my lord."

"Tell the men to pack up and head for Phthia."

"You are not coming, my lord?"

"No, I must go with Odysseus to a different place. Do not worry, Eudoros, I shall return, but until then you are in charge."

"My lord you are too kind. As you wish." With that Eudoros walked off to tell the men what they were doing. Some of the men groaned at the idea of leaving before true glory could be won but none questioned the orders. Hearing what was going, on Patroclus ran up to his cousin.

"Cousin, are you mad? We should be staying to help the Greeks with this war! And yet you seek to run when we are needed most!"

"Tell me, Patroclus, who do you follow?" His question confused Patroclus. Never before had his will to follow Achilles been questioned, so why now?

"I follow you, cousin."

"Oh really, and what if I die? Who then will you follow? I am giving you a choice now. From how you have fought in the previous battles with the Trojans, you have three options. The first option is to stay here as the only Myrmidon, all the glory of battle will be yours, the solders will follow you as the last shining hope for them to win this war. The second choice is you can go back to Phthia with the other Myrmidons, there you will be given the kingship title until my return, if you do not go back with the other Myrmidons it is not a problem. Eudoros will take the place as leader until my return. Or the third option, you can join me and Odysseus on a venture north. We have some business to settle in the north and if you are willing, you can join us. But choose wisely, for once you choose I will not allow you to change your mind."

Patroclus was taken aback by this. Never before had Achilles shown so much confidence in his abilities. He was so happy he almost started to cry. He hardened his face and held back his tears and thought seriously before making a choice.

"I choose to stay with you. If what you want is to go to the north, I will go with you. I will always be by your side in any task. I join you of my own volition."

Achilles smiled at this, despite his gnawing feeling of impending doom, he was happy to have someone he truly cared for on this venture.

"Very well then! Gather your things, we leave tonight."

Patroclus nodded and walked away to gather his things. As he walked away Achilles couldn't help but look to the north, he felt as though he was being watched carefully by something he could not comprehend as of yet. It sent chills down his spine to think that something so evil could be concerned with his choices and actions.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

The southern beaches of Troy were devoid of soldiers. The mighty Myrmidons had left the shores of Troy, never to return. Agamemnon looked out upon the once-active location that was as empty as the goblet he now held. As he looked, anger welled up within his heart, and he understood Achilles' abandonment. The man hated him, but Odysseus had left as well, which angered and concerned Agamemnon. Never before had people deserted him in any battle. He did not like the feeling of loosing at all, even if it was just soldiers. He went back into his tent and grabbed the bag of rings that was placed on his desk. He opened it up to place them upon his fingers, knowing full-well that with these rings he would be granted victory in this war. One by one the rings were placed upon each finger. When the fifth ring was put on his finger he reached in to get the sixth and seventh ones but was surprised to find them missing. He looked into the bag to confirm his fears. It was true, two of the seven rings he had were missing. He threw the bag on the ground and began to search around franticly in his tent, hoping to find them somewhere on the floor. After searching for thirty minutes he was unable to locate them. It was then the idea donned upon him that the two missing rings had been taken by Achilles and Odysseus when they left.

"Damn those men! Not only do they desert me in the middle of a war but also take two of my rings with them! Damn them! Damn them!"

Nestor heard his lord talking to himself outside and walked into Agamemnon's tent to see what the great king was so upset about. "Great King, is something the matter? You have not been yourself of late."

"I am fine Nestor, I am simply enraged. The greatest warrior to ever live has walked out on me along with my most intelligent general. Damn them both!"

Agamemnon got down on his knees and began to pray. "Hear me Hades, god of the dead and damned, I beseech you, fill their travels with woe and suffering, as an offering I will sacrifice one of my children to you."

Nestor only watched. He had noticed for some time but now it was accelerating. He watched as Agamemnon put on the first ring, and watched as each time he put on a new ring he became more and more violent. It was gradual for the most part. Now, however, it seemed to be becoming more prevalent. He had chosen to ignore it because Agamemnon was, after all, his King. However, things were happening that even began to scare Nestor away from his service to his king. Never before had Agamemnon offered one of his children for sacrifice. Nestor wasn't even sure a priest would conduct that ceremony. This gave Nestor chills, to think that a man who was of such honor and caring for his own blood would choose to kill one of them for revenge against two men. It was not natural. Nestor said no more but simply walked out of the tent and back to his own. He needed sleep, perhaps with a new day would bring a new thinking for his king.

**XXXXX**

Achilles and Patroclus were sleeping on the deck while Odysseus charted the waters for his men to follow. It had been a year and nine months since they left the beaches of Troy. Ten minutes before they left the beaches of Troy, Achilles requested that Patroclus, being sneakier than both Achilles and Odysseus combined, slip into Agamemnon's tent and take the rings that belonged to both Achilles and Odysseus. Now those two rings were hidden below deck inside of a crate underneath a sack of grain.

Odysseus was studying a chart when Patroclus woke up. He stood and walked over to Odysseus so that he could look out as the pentekonter sailed swiftly across the water.

"Where exactly are we headed, Odysseus?" Patroclus looked at Achilles still sleeping. "He hasn't told me anything about where we are going."

Odysseus chuckled, "No I suppose he hasn't, nor would he, even if he could." Odysseus smiled at the youth's wish to gain knowledge. It reminded him of himself when he was younger. "We are sailing to a port to the north; it is called The Grey Havens. I know not of who built it or why but it is an impressive port, from what I have heard. Merchants from the north tell me that it is owned by a race of beings that are perfect in every way. Personally I would love to meet a race who is better than man; we are such imperfect creatures, after all."

Patroclus stared out across the water, his mind racing with ideas as to who these people could possibly be. More perfect men, or something else? Patroclus' gaze focused on the west, it was out there, something of great value, something that was precious to all beings but not welcoming for many. After he stood there, staring into the west for a couple of hours, Patroclus returned to his bed next to Achilles. He was exhausted. He could not explain why, but something was weighing heavily upon his heart. All he wanted to do right then was sleep, and perhaps with a new day would bring new insight. As he laid down his eyes slid shut faster than his body could react, by the time his head had hit the pillow he was in a deep sleep.

As the hours passed, Odysseus, the ever watchful seaman, kept a keen eye on the horizon for any possible threats to the safety of the ship and themselves. As night rolled in Odysseus began to slip into an uneasy sleep, the thought of running aground or capsizing in a storm was always on the forefront of his mind. Eventually sleep took even the able-bodied king of the seas. As he slept a great storm came in, one the likes of the Aegean had never seen. Its monstrous thunderheads rumbled almost silently in the blackness of the night. It was only when the storm was almost on top of them that Odysseus awoke. When he did, he was struck with fear. He simultaneously awakened his men and began to raise the sail.

"Wake up you sea dogs! There's a storm ahead! Mount oars! Take up positions! Achilles, Patroclus, help me raise the sail!"

Achilles awoke with a start and ran to the aid of Odysseus. As he grabbed on to the left rope he began to pull franticly. Patroclus, who had just woken up, was now stumbling on the deck trying to reach the mast in time. Just as Patroclus grabbed the center rope to help the two men, the first of the great waves came crashing down upon their heads. It engulfed the three men in seawater, as they held their breath they continued to haul the sail up.

Once the sail was up, Achilles and Patroclus tied themselves to the pentekonter's beams and held on as hard as they could. Odysseus went below deck and pulled out the pouch with the two rings from its hiding place, as he returned to the top deck he discovered that they would not evaded the storm. In his best attempt for safety Odysseus tied himself to the mast of the pentekonter. The storm was now directly above the small ship. Odysseus could feel the ship warp and buckle as it was tossed about on the torrential seas.

"Odysseus!" Achilles shouted, "I fear that this ship will not survive the storm! Are we near an alcove or a shore to land upon!?"

Odysseus looked calm despite the severe strain being place on the ship. "Do not worry, my friend; this ship has been with me since I became king of Ithica! She will survive this like she did so many other storms!" Secretly Odysseus was praying to himself that the storm not destroy this ship. If it did they would surely be walking the rest of the way to their destination.

As the storm raged around them, Patroclus watched in horror as the waves came crashing over the ship. The small pentekonter was being tossed about like a child's toy on the undulating vastness. The last thing Patroclus saw was a lightning bolt striking the mast before losing consciousness. When Patroclus awoke he was on a beach with white sand. He found that the only things he had with him was his armor, sword, and a few scattered pieces of the broken and torn-up ship.

Patroclus stood up and began to search the beach for any survivors "Achilles? Odysseus?" No response came. For the next hour Patroclus walked the beach without any sign of life. If it weren't for the debris from the pentekonter it would not have been know that anything had happened the night before. The beach was pristine and undisturbed, save for the stray pieces of wood that now littered it. Patroclus continued to walk up the beach until he did find someone. As he ran up he noticed that it was one of the oarsmen from the ship. Patroclus knelt next to the man to check for a heartbeat. He heard nothing.

Patroclus began to recite a prayer he had once heard his cousin give to a fallen soldier in battle, he wasn't sure what it said but it felt right.

"Lotesse ro seere e' i' ale' coia." He thought he had said it correctly but he could not be sure, since he had only heard his cousin say it once.

"Never before have I heard a man utter such a sentence to another. Tell me, are you descended from one of the Númenoreans?"

Patroclus' shot up from his kneeling position and turned around to face this new entity. When his eyes fell upon the sight he almost fell over again. Patroclus had never seen such beauty. The woman standing in front of him was perfect in every way. She was so beautiful that it was almost godlike. She looked at Patroclus with just as much wonder and curiosity.

"M-my apologies, I do not mean to stare but you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen."

The maiden smiled "Likewise, my name is Ninniachel. What is your name, traveler?"

Patroclus smiled, he had never felt like this before, he was sure that he had fallen into a dream. "My name is Patroclus. Ninniachel, is this a dream? Am I dead?"

Ninniachel laughed at this, "Of course not, you are very much alive. You are in the land of Middle-earth. But tell me, from where do you hail? I have never seen armor or dress of your like around here."

"I am from a land to the south called Greece, my kin and I, Achilles and Odysseus are their names, were traveling north in search of answers. Achilles and Odysseus had been having dreams that neither could explain but it seemed to draw them to the north. We were headed for a port called the Grey Havens, but along the way our ship ran into a storm and was torn apart. The last thing I remember before waking up on the beach was a lightning bolt hitting the mast of our ship. The man you saw me kneeling over was one of our oarsmen."

"I see, and you are in search of your kin? Then perhaps I can help you. I know these lands better than most. If you wish it I could aid you in your search."

Patroclus couldn't help but beam with anticipation "Yes I would very much like your aid, and company, if you would give it willingly."

"Certainly young Patroclus, you were searching north on the beach, were you not?"

"I was."

With that the two walked off in search of Achilles and Odysseus.

Meanwhile four miles south of them Achilles and Odysseus stirred. They had been saved from death by sheer luck. Where they landed was the only clear stretch of beach between massive jagged stones that would have ripped the both of them to shreds.

Achilles woke up and looked around. "Patroclus! Patroclus!" No response came. Achilles franticly got up and began shouting at the top of his lungs to try and get a response, but still none came. Achilles had yet to take notice of the lack of his shield. Odysseus awoke and grabbed at his wrist. The pouch with the two rings was still tied securely and showed no signs of damage. As he looked around he noticed their location.

Odysseus looked up at his shouting companion.

"Achilles, calm down. If he didn't answer the first time he will not answer. We are clearly on the southernmost edge of the beaches before we reach the Gulf of Lhûn. From what the map said this is near a well-established city, I believe it is called Harlond. Our only option is to head north along the beach and try to find this city. If we keep looking, we might even find some evidence of Patroclus."

Achilles didn't even acknowledge Odysseus and began to run to the north. As Odysseus got up he noticed that he was not holding his bow. He looked around on the beach for it, but it was not there. For the first time in his life Odysseus sank to his knees. He felt as though a part of him was lost and could never be replaced. He looked up to where Achilles was once standing. Odysseus hauled himself up and began to run after the powerful warrior. Odysseus hoped that they might find his bow further up the shoreline while they were searching for Patroclus.

After an hour of running, Odysseus finally stopped and shouted to Achilles. Achilles was running on pure adrenaline, hoping to find some evidence of Patroclus. When he heard his friend's shout he stopped dead in his tracks and turned around.

"What! What could you possibly want that would be more important than finding Patroclus!?"

Odysseus said nothing. He simply bent over and heaved in and out with each breath until he pointed to the shoreline. Achilles had not seen it before but when he looked again he saw footprints. They were the same sized feet as Patroclus'. For the first time since this began, Achilles heart skipped a beat. He had little hope of finding anything related to Patroclus, but when he saw the foot prints he let himself believe, just for a moment, that his beloved cousin might still be alive.

"Odysseus, those tracks can't be more than a couple hours old, we are close! Come on!" Achilles set off in a dead sprint in an attempt to catch up to his cousin.

Odysseus took in one more deep breath and began to bolt after the Greek warrior. Each step strained him to the limits of his ability. He had known that Achilles was the greatest warrior, but now he knew why. The stamina of the man was unmatched by anyone he had ever seen. Despite having been in a full run for the past hour the man showed no sign of stopping or slowing. When he had seen Achilles' face there was not even the slightest sign of fatigue gracing it.

Further up the shore, less than a couple of hours ahead of the two kings, Patroclus was walking. He had forgotten about Achilles and Odysseus. His mind was too focused on the beautiful woman walking with him. As Ninniachel walked, Patroclus noticed that her clothes, made of what appeared to be a red cloth of which he had never seen, barely moved, despite the pace of their steps. On top of that when he stepped down on the wet sand it left distinct impressions on the coarse earth, but when Ninniachel stepped down she left no imprint. It was at this time that he also noticed the points of her ears sticking out from underneath her hair. Patroclus' shocked look did not go unnoticed.

"Is something troubling you, young Patroclus?"

Patroclus' gaze became stony as he looked forward trying to hide his surprise. "It is nothing important, I just thought it was curious, is all."

Ninniachel smiled. "About what?"

"Like I said, it was nothing important, I just noticed things."

"What things?"

"Well, I am curious, why do your feet not make prints on the ground? Why does your dress not move when you walk? Why are your ears pointed? Where do you come from?"

Ninniachel laughed at this.

"Why do you mock me?"

Ninniachel couldn't keep from smiling. "I mean no insult, Patroclus, but your questions come faster than I can answer. To answer your first three questions, the reason is because I am an Elf. To answer your last question, I come from a land to the east called Lindon, the place from which I hail is called Rivendell. It is a beautiful city among the trees and mountains."

Patroclus was dumbfounded, "What is an Elf?" was the first question he spouted, with so many more waiting to roll off his tongue.

Ninniachel was puzzled by this. "Do you truly not know what an Elf is? You must come from far to the south indeed if you know not who we are. All men know of us, either by firsthand knowledge or myths created about our people. I am shocked to find one such as you, with highly noble blood, not knowing who we are. Very well I will tell you everything I can about my people."

As the two walked along the beach, Ninniachel explained the entire history of the Elves to Patroclus, from the first Elves to set foot on Middle-earth, who were so taken by the beauty of the stars that they often sought darkness, to the creation of the Two Trees made by the Valar to light the world, as well as their destruction at the hands of the evil tyrant Morgoth. She spoke of how three jewels had been created that held the pure light of the Two Trees before they were destroyed, how the elves were called across the waves to the west, to the undying lands, and how as the elves began their march to the west, many stopped, finding such beauty that they could go no further, while others simply refused to go to the west. They wished to stay where they could best see the stars. She recalled mournfully how many of her kin were taken by the dark powers of Morgoth and turned into twisted forms, how the three most sacred jewels were stolen by Morgoth and put into a crown, and how a war was fought for them, yet only one was recovered from his crown.

It had been six hours since they started walking and the two had just now reached the entrance to the port city of Harlond. There Patroclus' eyes beheld a sight like none he had ever seen in Greece. The cities, made of pale grey stone, seemed to simply grow out of the ground as though they had no base save the earth itself. The towers that reached high into the sky looked as though they were carved out of single piece of stone rather than many blocks. It so stunned Patroclus that he physically stopped for five minutes to simply take in the immense amount of beauty.

Patroclus finally roused himself from the images around him. "Where are we? This place is truly magnificent. I have never seen anything of its like before. Who built it?"

Ninniachel was happy that he loved the beauty that the elves created. "This is the port city of Harlond. It was built in a joint effort by my own people, the Ñoldor and the Sindar. The name Ñoldor means "those with knowledge", we are called the Noble Elves in the Common Tongue. The Sindar are simply referred to as the Grey Elves, because when the call came for them to leave the shores they refused."

Patroclus was silent for a while, lost deep in thought. When he spoke his tone was grave. "I have never seen such beauty, and I most likely will never see such beauty again. Do your cities decay with time, as many things made by man do?"

Ninniachel looked somber at that statement. "In all truth and reality, I am not sure. We often enchant things to keep them as new as possible for longer periods of time, but our enchantments do not last forever. Our people may be immortal, but our cities, our buildings that have made a mark on the world, will, in enough time, fade from existence like many things in this world."

It was at that statement that Patroclus remembered his cousin. "Achilles would argue that statement. He feels that, since humans cannot gain immortality unless granted to them by the gods, then they too will wither away and die, but not before they have a chance to make a name for themselves, so that their deeds will be remembered for the next ten thousand years. That is my cousin's dream."

"Your cousin seems like he is an honorable man, more so than most men who live in this world."

It was Patroclus' turn to smile, "It is who we are as a people. Honor means everything to a true Greek. Only a true Greek would understand that Honor can be won in many ways, but is best left to be gained in war above all else. In war, deeds that honor not only your name, but also your King, will win you riches beyond your dreams. In some cases Honor can grant you the title of King itself."

Patroclus' face turned downward, "Yet my cousin chose to abandon his chance for eternal glory and fame won on the field of battle for Honor, in exchange for knowledge as to what tormented his mind. It was something totally out of the realm of reality for me to even think that Achilles, master of war, would leave a great battle to find peace."

Ninniachel looked at Patroclus for a long time before answering. "Young Patroclus, you speak without knowing. The seeking of peace is a more noble cause than any war. I am sure that your cousin knows this, if he were here right now he would most likely say that peace is something he has sought his whole life…and yet it never sought him."

Meanwhile, a mile away, Achilles and Odysseus came stumbling up the beach towards the city of Harlond.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Achilles had finally succumbed to fatigue and collapsed on the beaches just one mile outside of Harlond. Odysseus, who had long since lost rational thought and was simply following Achilles, was asleep from exhaustion before he hit the ground. Neither of them could remember how long they laid there. As Achilles opened his eyes he noticed that he was in, what appeared to be, a prison of some sort. The chains dangling from the ceiling were designed to hold a person captive, that much was obvious. Achilles looked around the room to try and get his bearings. Looking around he noticed how morbid the place truly was. In Greece when a man was imprisoned, the jailer would usually keep the place as clean as possible to try and keep the prisoner alive. This prison looked as though it was built to try and kill its captives. With rats running long the floor and dirt and blood coating the walls this prison was never meant to hold someone for a long period of time. As he was looking around he saw Odysseus over in a corner badly beaten and bruised. It was clear that their captors were not pleasant people, to say the least. Achilles began to struggle with the chains holding him in; as he did he heard a voice over in the other corner.

"Don't bother; these chains are enchanted to be unbreakable."

Achilles didn't look at the person talking to him, he simply fell quiet.

"I saw the jailers bring you in. It is curious, what would men be doing here? From where do you hail? Your dress is very uncommon."

Achilles finally looked up at the man talking, he was surprised to see that the man was sitting very casually. As though he knew that he had no hope.

"My name is Achilles." He said, "I come from the land of Greece, far to the south."

"Greece? I have never heard of this place. Why would men from so far away seek to come to our tortured lands?"

"What do you mean come to your tortured lands? I was heading to the Grey Havens when our ship was destroyed in a storm. My kinsmen and I were washed ashore. We began to head north on the beaches in an effort to find a city in which we could rest and get an understanding of our location." Achilles left out the fact that they were looking for their third party member. He wanted to keep as much from this man as possible.

"I see, then I must apologize to you. You have been captured by Orcs of Mordor. I am not sure what they are doing out here but they came about three months ago. They took over a small part of this land and built a fortress. From here they have been raiding the cities. Apparently they are looking for something or someone. Who or what I cannot say."

Achilles looked down to the floor again. He didn't want to show it but he was beginning to cry. He could not stand the fact that he had convinced his friend and his cousin to come to the north with him. Had he not done such things, then Patroclus might still be alive, and Odysseus might not be beaten and bleeding in the corner. Despite his attempts to hide it the man in the corner did see him start to cry.

"What troubles you, friend?"

"It is nothing; I simply seek solitude, of which I am sure I will find little in this place."

"I understand how you feel. Many times since I was brought here have I sought solitude only to be interrupted by our jailers."

"Where are we? What is this place called?"

"You are technically in the realm of the Elves called Lindon. This region is supposed to be controlled by the city of Harlond, yet this fortress has been set up in the heart of Harlond's control. This place has no given name by its creators but we have come to call it Ost-Morsereg. In the common tongue it is called Fortress of the Black Blood."

"Ost-Morsereg. I suppose this is where Odysseus and I will die, lest we find a way out."

"I have tried, my friend. I do not mean to discourage you, but if you seek to escape and fail you will be horribly punished. The jailer broke both of my legs when I was caught trying to flee. You will not get that chance but you will get the chance for open combat faster than you think. The Orcs brought with them six battle trolls."

"That is the second creature you have spoken of that I know nothing about. What are Orcs and Trolls?"

Achilles' cell mate looked surprised by this statement. He had never known of any man who did not know of Orcs or Trolls.

"I see. You clearly have never been to Middle-earth, have you? Then I shall explain what our jailers are."

For the next two hours the man in the corner told Achilles of the Orcs and their origins, and how they lead six powerful creatures to Middle-Earth from the heart of Mordor itself. As Achilles listened he began to understand that his choice to come here could not have come at a worse time.

"Damn them all!" Achilles shouted, the tears now flowing from his eyes. He pulled on the chains as hard as he could but they just wouldn't budge. No matter how hard he tried, the chains held tight and refused to come loose from their captive's wrists.

"Do not struggle so much. If I were you I would do my best to dry my tears. If our Orc jailer sees this he will surely cut out one of your eyes as a punishment."

Achilles hated this, but knowing that his cellmate knew more about these people than he, Achilles followed the man's instructions. Achilles dried the tears on his face and held the rest back. It was just like back at the camp of Agamemnon where he had to sit and wait for the enemy to attack them instead of being able to attack the enemy. Fortunately for him he did not have to wait for long. The door swung open and revealed their jailer. He was a rather tall Orc. His face was completely black from all the buildup of dirt on it. In his right hand he held a whip and in his left was a short sword.

"Alright you mongrel rat! Get up! It is time for the entertainment!"

Achilles shot the Orc a vicious glare. "What entertainment?" Achilles voice was so stony that it didn't seem like he was asking a question at all but rather giving an order.

The Orc seemed un-phased by this and in return gave an evil glance of his own. As he spoke a smile was beginning to appear on his face, as though he relished in the chance to see his captives squirm under his gaze.

"You are going to be today's entertainment. We have a special treat. You will be facing not one, but two of our Battle Trolls. Congratulations. You now have a chance to die in an interesting way. That or you can rot away in a cell. It is your choice."

Achilles neither squirmed nor averted his eyes from the Orc when he spoke.

"I accept your challenge of the Trolls."

Achilles' cellmate thought he saw a glint in Achilles' eye but he couldn't be sure. The Orc let out a sickening laugh that sounded as if he was choking on his own bile.

"Good! A feisty one. We haven't had one since an elf maiden we caught. She won against one of our trolls but then escaped in the night. Pity, she was a pretty thing. I would have liked to have my fun with her."

The Orc continued his disgusting laugh until he was interrupted by Achilles.

"You sack of wine! You are no better than king Agamemnon! I will face your challenge! Take me to this arena and we shall see who is left standing!"

The Orc jailer was taken aback by this. He could see the rage burning in Achilles' eyes. Yet as quickly as the rage built up it vanished, reassuring the Orc that he would be no trouble at all to handle.

"Alright then you rat! Get moving!"

The Orc signaled for two of his guards to come in and unchain Achilles. Achilles did not struggle against his captors. As he stood up the Orc jailer cracked his whip across Achilles face. The great warrior did not even flinch at the stinging burn of the leather. The Orc definitely smiled at this.

"Good, someone who can take a beating. I will enjoy watching you die."

As Achilles was lead out of the room, Odysseus finally started to regain consciousness. He saw Achilles leaving but could not speak to stop him. His voice, for some reason, would not work. Odysseus' gaze fell upon the man in the corner and gave him a sad look as though to ask him, 'Why?'

After the Orc jailer and his guards led Achilles away Odysseus found his voice slowly returning. At first Odysseus tried to speak full sentences, but to no avail. The most he could do was make sounds. It wasn't until Achilles was too far away to hear Odysseus that his voice fully returned.

"What happened? Why could I not speak?" Odysseus' eyes were full of hate and confusion.

"You were placed under an enchantment. That enchantment stole your voice so long as your kin was within earshot of you."

"What? Why? Who would cause me such grief?"

"It was me; I needed you to stay silent."

"Why?"

"I need to see what your kin can truly do. If I am correct he might be who we need in our war."

Odysseus' face turned grim. He could not bear to think that another king, somewhere else within this world, would demand that Achilles fight in another war, on a land he had never seen.

"He will not fight for you. He fights for no one but himself. He does what he thinks to be right and never anything else."

"Which is why I am sure he will join us in our war."

Odysseus could not believe what he was hearing. Was this man so self-interested that he could not see that Achilles was not a man to be bought and sold like some common slave? Odysseus' eyes glazed over when the thought occurred to him that perhaps this was why Achilles was here. Perhaps it was his destiny to fight in wars for people he never trusted.

Meanwhile back in Harlond, Patroclus and Ninniachel were sitting in a great library. Patroclus was searching through the few books in the common tongue to find any information he could. After three hours of doing this he laid his head down on the table in frustration.

"Damn it, I have looked for hours already and still have nothing to show for it."

Patroclus looked over at Ninniachel. It was not often that he could be lost in a simple image, but the image of Ninniachel was something else. Her beauty never seemed to age even as the day wore on. Ninniachel caught his glance and smiled at him.

"Young Patroclus, if you continue to stare at me you will find nothing of the information you seek."

"That is just it Ninniachel, I do not know what information I seek. If Odysseus or Achilles were here they surely would have found some information on whatever it is they are looking for."

"We did not find them on the way here, but perhaps we were looking in the wrong places."

Patroclus' eyes went wide when he heard her. Of course, why hadn't he thought of that himself? If he had simply turned around to look the other way he might have found some hint of their whereabouts.

"Ninniachel, your right!" He shouted. Ninniachel simply smiled.

"Then we shall go and look back down the beach for your kin. However if you would be kind enough to wait, I need to change my attire for the journey."

As she walked away Patroclus was going to stop her and ask what she meant; but Ninniachel was already around the corner and gone before he could even speak a word. Patroclus waited for ten minutes before Ninniachel returned. She had replaced her red dress with clothing that seemed to be designed for scouting the forests. She wore a traveler's cloak draped around her shoulders. In place of her dress, she now wore a braded lather cuirass. On her wrists were bracers designed to defend attacks. Over her shoulder she had slung a quiver of arrows and a bow. The bow was the most elegant killing tool he had ever seen. Upon it were etched various carvings of the leaves in the trees. It was so perfectly done that if you wished to hide it you could simply place it in a bush or other plant and it would vanish. At her side she wore a small dagger that, from the looks of it, was so perfect that it could hew straight through solid metal plates. Her legs were now covered with loose fitting trousers that he had seen men of the north often wear. But these trousers we not like men's, they flowed elegantly and effortlessly all the while making no noise as she walked. On her feet she now wore the same styled cloth shoes that muffled every step she made.

"Now then, young Patroclus, let us find your kin."

As she walked away Patroclus merely fell in line, unsure of how to react to this woman's now-commanding voice. There was more to Ninniachel than Patroclus had previously thought. As the two left Harlond they were stopped by an Elvin guard.

"Lady Ninniachel, you know full well that leaving after nightfall is dangerous. Orcs have set up a fortress in the forest to the south of here."

Ninniachel shot the guard a fierce glance. "I am well aware of that, captain, but my companion's kin are missing and he needs to find them. I will be gone for a while with him. If we do not return by daybreak, then you may come searching for us."

"My lady, please." The guard's eyes were pleading with Ninniachel to reconsider. However Ninniachel would not be dissuaded.

The guard let out a soft sigh and stepped aside. As the pair walked out Patroclus was stopped by the guard.

"I am intrusting her safety to you, young one. If she is in any way injured when she returns, then you will be held accountable."

Patroclus did not respond. He simply nodded. He would not let anything happen to Ninniachel, he already knew that he cared for her too much.

As the two walked they came to a place a mile out of the city where they found what appeared to be a struggle. At least that is what Patroclus saw, yet he was not a trained huntsman. He could not tell the difference between boar tracks or oxen. Ninniachel, on the other hand, was apparently well trained in the art of tracking. What she saw was very different. She could see the location in which the two men had laid. She could see the feet around them that showed drag marks away from the beaches and into the forested woodlands. Ninniachel ran up to the edge of the forest and stopped, Patroclus came up right behind her.

"They are in there somewhere, aren't they?"

Ninniachel did not respond for a minute, and only looked into the woods.

"Yes they are, but they are not in the woods themselves. They are in Ost-Morsereg, if your kin are still alive they will be being held captive in the dungeons below."

"I know not where Ost-Morsereg is. If you could lead the way?"

"I could, but I dare not. The forests are teeming with Orcs and Goblins. None of which are kind or caring towards others, even if the others are their own ilk."

"Very well then, I shall go. Tell me what direction it is in."

"I cannot, I know that if you go you will surely die."

"Then don't bother telling me. I will go on my own." As Patroclus spoke he ran into the dense forest and began heading south.

"Patroclus, wait!" Ninniachel shouted but he did not stop or turn to look back. He just kept running.

Ninniachel sighed and followed after him. She would not let this man fall into harm's way, no matter what.

As the two ran Patroclus began to slow once he saw what he thought was Ost-Morsereg. The fortress was massive, to say the least. Its walls stood fifty feet high. The center tower was very short but still huge. It reminded Patroclus of the theaters he had seen back in Greece. He knew that Achilles and Odysseys were somewhere in there. He could feel it. Patroclus began to run up to the door to try and find a way in, but he was stopped by Ninniachel.

"Patroclus, please don't go. I can find us a safer route in."

"What? How?"

"There is a side passage that was designed by the Orcs to be used as an escape route in case the fortress was taken. It opens from the inside only, but I left a clump of dirt in the lock to keep it from shutting properly again, just in case I would ever need to return."

"Why did you not speak of this before?" Patroclus could barely contain the anger in his voice.

"I am sorry Patroclus, I did not want this to happen. I was hoping that your kin would make it to Harlond safely but I was mistaken. When they did not come to the city two things occurred to me. One, they were truly dead, of which I hoped not. Or two they were captured by the Orcs who are now living here." She pointed to the fortress. "If they have been captured by the Orcs then I pray that death come swiftly for them."

Patroclus glared at her, he would never let anything happen to his cousin. Patroclus gave Achilles his word on his honor that he would always be by his cousin's side. Now Patroclus was going to make sure to keep his word.

"Lead me to this door, Ninniachel." There was no compassion in his voice now, only bitterness and commanding. Ninniachel simply nodded and showed him the way to the door.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Agamemnon looked out on the battlefield with contempt. He had won the attack on his encampment but by the narrowest of margins. The field was littered with the corpses of fallen soldiers. The great king had almost lost the war that day, and all because of the arrogance of Achilles. The man who could win any war decided to leave, almost costing Agamemnon this one. Almost two years had passed since Achilles had left the war and in that time no one had made any advancement on either front. Agamemnon walked back into his tent and collapsed onto his throne.

"Nestor! Where are you? I need your counsel!"

Nestor walked in to find his king slouching on the throne. The king had not been himself for a while but with this last "victory" Nestor was concerned that his king would never be the same again.

"Yes my great king? What do you require?"

"A plan, I need a means to take Troy within a fortnight."

"But my lord, we have tried everything, the walls are, as many of the men feel, impregnable."

Agamemnon stood up, his imposing figure made ever more threatening by the steps of his throne.

"I don't give a damn if they are the gates of Olympus! I want them smashed to the ground. If you fail to do this I will have you strung up by your ankles and your skin flayed from your body. How does that sound Nestor!? Does that inspire action in you?!

"My lord please, you don't mean anything you have just spoken. I have been your friend and council for years and have never failed you. Why do you speak such harshness towards one such as me?"

Agamemnon sat back in his chair again. "I am sorry, old friend, I am so sorry. I do not know what has come over me. You are right. I did not mean anything of what I spoke. Please, can you forgive an old fool's offense?"

"You need not ask for my forgiveness, my king. You have always had it. If you so wish it I will find a way to breach the gates of Troy in a fortnight."

"Thank you, old friend. This war is starting to age me faster than I would like. Once we are done here I will set the ships sailing after Achilles and Odysseus. The two deserters need to be brought to justice."

Nestor knew that Agamemnon would be making that order. It had become clear to Nestor that Agamemnon was becoming more and more irrational, but what the king wants the king gets. He had no right to decline an order from the king. As Nestor left the tent he began to make a plot to destroy the Trojans and their mighty walls.

In his tent Nestor started to draw up plans to take the city of Troy with little effort. In a couple of hours he had developed a plan that he thought would work. Now all he needed to do was test it.

"Scribe!" Nestor called out. "Come in here, I need your assistance."

The scribe entered with trepidation, he had never been called into a superior's tent before so he had no idea what to expect. He was originally told to come along on this venture to document everything that occurred at the war with Troy. _Document. That's a laugh._ The scribe knew that his purpose was not to document but to make the king of kings Agamemnon look larger than life.

"Yes sir, is there anything that I can help you with?"

"Scribe, I need you to write this down." For the next hour Nestor told everything to the scribe that he would need to pass along to the engineers. "Now go, and quickly! Time is of the essence."

"Sir." The scribe saluted the old general and ran out the tent over to the engineers.

"My lords, I was told to give this to you. It has been requested that you have it constructed by dawn."

The engineer looked puzzled by this; he had no job since he arrived at the battlement, save setting up the beach defenses against attackers.

"Let me see what we have to do."

The engineer held the paper up to a torch light and read the instructions. As he read, the engineer's face began to grow dark.

"Are you joking? A task like this could only be accomplished if we had weeks, not hours. This cannot be done! Go back to your master and tell him that we need a better plan."

The scribe looked terrified. His first task that didn't involve writing down all of the battles, and he had failed.

"But my lord, these orders come from Nestor, King Agamemnon's counselor. I cannot return to him to speak of failure."

At hearing Nestor's name the engineer grabbed the instructions out of the scribe's hands. "If it is a task from Nestor then I will get it done."

The engineer turned around to one of his men. "Gather all available men to aide us. We will need the manpower."

Thirty minutes later every man able to hold a shovel, who wasn't a soldier, was brought before the engineer.

"Alright men, we have a task! If we can do this we will win a great victory for Greece. We will be digging out the earth from under the walls of Troy. If we do it right we can have it done in an hour at most, but first we need to set up the location of our entry point."

The engineer lead the men to the point from which they would be digging. As he finished explaining the plan one skeptic in the crowd spoke up.

"Why are we doing this? If attacking the armies of Troy have failed, then how will attacking the walls be any better?"

The engineer smiled at this. "Because, attacking their armies will cost too much in lives. But attacking their walls will give us a quick access to the city itself. We can burn the homes and shops and we can kill the armies in a matter of hours. Now then, is there anyone else who feels this is a foolish venture?"

No one answered. "Good, then let's begin!"

The men ran off and started to gather the things they would need. Some men gathered rope from old ships to use as lashings. Others went to their tasks of cutting down trees and shaping the logs to the proper proportions. The work went smoothly without any detection by the tower guards. After three hours of manual labor the entrance to the makeshift tunnel was complete.

The engineer ran back to the camps to find Nestor. Nestor was, by now, sleeping in his tent. He had no knowledge of how quickly the work would be done but he was confident in the abilities of the men.

The engineer burst into Nestor's tent and got down on one knee. "General Nestor, we have completed what you requested of us."

Nestor sat up in his bed and looked at the engineer for a minute trying to remember what it was that he asked the engineer to do. As Nestor regained his senses his eyes widened.

"You're done already? How long has it been since you started?"

"Not more than three hours, sir."

Nestor smiled. He was pleased beyond any comprehension. He knew the work would be done, but to be completed so quickly was outside of the realm of thought for Nestor. Nestor stood up and put his robe on.

"You have done a great service to the people of Greece and to King Agamemnon. Go now, you and your men need to rest. You deserve it."

"Thank you, my Lord."

The engineer walked out of Nestor's tent beaming. To say that he was pleased would have been an understatement.

Nestor departed from his tent and walked over to the tent of Agamemnon. Nestor entered the tent slowly, as to be sure that Agamemnon was not asleep. Much to his surprise Agamemnon was awake and sitting on his throne. In his hand he held the pouch of rings and was mumbling to himself about how much he loved the rings, about how much he needed the rings.

"Great King?" Nestor spoke quietly.

Agamemnon did not look up. He spoke to Nestor with his head down still clutching the pouch in his hand.

"What is it, Nestor?"

"Great King, it is done. If we get the army ready we can take the city of Troy before daybreak."

With those words Agamemnon's face lifted and he looked right at Nestor. But his look was not that of kindness or happiness. In fact, his look could not even be called a look. His eyes were dark and unreadable. His face had turned pale, as though he was gravely ill.

"Good, good. Call the men and prepare for the attack. We will take the city of Troy before nightfall tomorrow."

Less than one hour later all the men of Greece were standing in front of the sap point. The miners had been working vigorously to get to the walls of Troy and their efforts had paid off. The mining team got below the massive walls and started to dig out the dirt from underneath one of its massive towers.

"Alright men, we need to keep this quiet. We don't want any Trojans to hear us," the lead miner said in a hushed voice.

As the men dug they could see the wall starting to tilt and bend under its own weight. As the wall continued its slow tilt crackling stone could be heard. One of the tower guards came over to the crack that had appeared on top of the walls to examine the damage.

"Horace, call the engineer. The wall has a crack in it. I am not sure if this is a problem but we should just be-" the guard's sentence was cut off as the tower in front of him crumbled to the ground causing a massive gap in the once-impregnable walls.

Nestor watched as the wall collapsed knowing full well that now was the time for Troy to fall at the hands of King Agamemnon and all the Greeks.

Agamemnon spoke up, his voice commanding and powerful, "Charge into the city kill everyone. Do not stop until we take the citadel!"

With his command the full force of Greece flowed into the city of Troy like the breaking of a dam. They met little resistance on their way into the city, as much of the city guards were still sleeping.

One of the guards of the wall ran over to the great bell that hung from the tower at the main gate and pulled back on the large wood log, letting it loose. As the log struck the bronze bell, it let out a deep gong sound that resonated throughout all of Troy.

XXXXX

Achilles was being lead to the arena by the orc jailer. When he stepped into the arena he was not too surprised by what he saw. Along the walls of the arena were a great many weapons of fallen heroes who had failed the challenge of the trolls. One object caught his eye; it was his sword that had been missing ever since he had been taken to that dingy fortress.

The two orcs lead him in his chains to the center of the arena where two massive stone columns awaited him. The orcs then proceeded to take each of his chains and tie them to the rings on the columns. There the orcs left him chained, awaiting his fate at the hands of the trolls.

As the two orcs walked away Achilles called out to them. "How do you expect me to give you a good show without the use of my hands?"

One of the orcs laughed; at least, Achilles thought it was a laugh. "Your death will be show enough."

_Damn_ Achilles thought to himself. _I need to find a way out of this. I refuse to die without honor in a place like this._

As Achilles struggled with his restraints he noticed that one of the columns was loose and moved with his pull. _There, that is my way out._ As he began to struggle with pulling the column over, a massive rot-iron gate was lifted up on the other side of the arena. Out of that gate came a massive creature. Achilles could only assume that this was one of the trolls that his cell mate had spoken of. The creature walking out of the gate was around ten feet tall and could easily crush a man in its hand. The troll was dressed in solid plate metal armor on its chest and wore a similar styled helmet. In its right hand it held a very large black iron blade. The creature, much to Achilles' relief, did not appear to be very intelligent. As the creature lumbered out of the gate, it was followed by another troll who had the same armor, but instead it carried a very large hammer with prongs on each corner.

As the two beasts lumbered onto the arena grounds they seemed not to take notice of Achilles, which gave him just the time he needed to escape. On his third and final pull he ripped the column out of its place in the ground. The column toppled over, and Achilles moved to avoid the impact. With his right hand set free from the column he began to work on the second column. Unfortunately with the collapse of the right column the trolls took noticed and began to walk over to Achilles.

Achilles saw the two great beasts walking over to him and climbed up on top of the other column. He was hoping that they would attack the column to get at him, effectively giving him the chance to get his sword.

The troll flung its hammer against the column just as Achilles thought it would. The column started to sway and wobble under Achilles' weight. Achilles leaned forward to direct the column towards the now-vulnerable troll. As the column fell it crushed the troll under its weight, while Achilles jumped off and landed safely on the ground. Though he was now free from the columns he still had the issue of the living troll to deal with.

The second troll lumbered up to Achilles and clumsily swung it's sword in Achilles' general direction. The sword missed, but not by much. Achilles rolled to his left to avoid the blade and stood up. Taking a chain in each hand he began to swing them around his head. He launched the chains at the troll. One of the chains wrapped around the troll's arm, the other wrapped around the troll's neck. Achilles pulled with all his might but the troll seemed unphased by this. As Achilles was fighting in the arena Ninniachel was showing Patroclus the back entrance into the fortress.

"Here it is." Ninniachel said.

"Thank you Ninniachel, now stay out here. I was told to not let anything happen to you so that is what I intend on doing." Patroclus looked her in the eyes.

"No, I said that I would not let anything happen to you. Don't try and stop me I am coming with you." Ninniachel's eyes spoke more than her words, compelling Patroclus not to try dissuading her.

"Fine, but only if you stay behind me." Patroclus returned her look with his own serious gaze.

"Agreed." Ninniachel nodded.

With that the two of them walked into the fortress. As they opened the door an orc guarding it turned around to see why the door was making noise. Patroclus thrust his sword into the orc's face before it even had a chance to make a sound.

"Patroclus I believe that your cousin is in the arena. If he is there, then he is likely to die soon." Ninniachel looked at Patroclus with sad eyes.

"No Ninniachel, he won't. You don't know my cousin like I do. Battles are where his is most a home. He always wants peace but in war is where he is meant to be. If he is fighting he will not die." Patroclus' eyes were hard and cold, he understood what it meant when he told Ninniachel these things but he did not care. The only thing on his mind at the moment was rescuing Achilles and Odysseus.

Ninniachel looked at Patroclus' hard eyes and understood that he had no doubts about his cousin's ability as a fighter. "Alright then follow me, I will lead you to the arena."

"No, you point me in the right direction and I will go. I swore on my honor that I would not let anything happen to you. I can't do that in these cramped halls unless you are behind me." Ninniachel looked disappointed at this, she hated being told what to do but she knew that Patroclus meant well.

"Alright it is that way, and then you will need to make a left." Ninniachel pointed down the hall to a cross section in the corridors.

"Understood." As the two traveled the dark dirty tunnels they made sure not to lose each other in the blackness.

As they got closer to the arena Patroclus could hear the shouts and chants of the orcs in the stands watching the fight. Patroclus felt a pressure on his arm; he turned around to see it was Ninniachel. She was grabbing his arm so tightly he thought it would fall off.

"Have you been here before? You act as though you have terrible memories of this place." Patroclus stopped walking and turned to face Ninniachel.

Ninniachel averted her eyes so they would not meet but she spoke softly as though just mentioning it would cause all of the memories to become reality once again. "Yes, I was one of the combatants in the arena. I escaped and ran west to the shore. Where I met you…" Ninniachel stopped talking and just fell silent as a single tear ran down her cheek.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

King Priam could only watch in horror as the hordes of Greek soldiers overran his once-glorious city. While he was watching he failed to notice a figure coming up behind him. The figure reached out and grabbed him by the shoulder.

"Father, we must go. Troy has fallen. So long as our people live we have a future. Now we need to leave." Hector looked into his father's eyes.

"You're right, my son. We must go. Find as many people as you can and lead them to safety. I must stay and defend her to my dying breath. It is the will of the gods. Now go, my son! Find your brothers and leave Troy with them at once." Priam looked at his son intently, showing that he was not going to change his mind and Hector should just leave without him.

"Father, please, you can't mean that. You are the king of Troy and her people. You must-" Hector was cut off. Priam had raised his hand in order to silence Hector.

"You are correct again, my son. I am the King of Troy. If there is no Troy then she needs no king. Now do as I say and go." With that King Priam pushed his son away from him and picked up his sword.

"Like I said, I love this city, and I will defend her to my dying breath. Your mother knew this, and she would be doing as I asked if she were still alive. Now go, my son. Go and live with your brothers. Find a new land to call your own and be happy." King Priam smiled grimly at Hector and strode proudly out to face the Greek horde.

Hector shed a single tear, knowing that his father would not be coming back from this foolish venture. Hector turned around and ran deeper into the palace to find Paris and Aeneas.

"Paris! Paris!" Helen was shouting at the top of her lungs but she never got a response. The smoke from the burning palace was choking her and the fire kept her from checking everywhere.

"Helen! Helen we have got to leave now!" Aeneas came running up to her. "Helen we have got to leave! The city is lost! We must move on." Aeneas looked into Helen's eyes, with that look Helen broke down into tears, feeling as though she had lost the man she loved. Then out of the smoke came a sound. It was muffled, but clear enough to hear.

"Helen!" Paris shouted at the top of his lungs, his voice reverberating off of the walls in the main hall. He did not care if it was the fires of Hephaestus himself, they would not keep him from Helen. As Paris ran up to Helen he noticed Aeneas standing with her.

"Aeneas, Helen, praise the gods I have found you! We need to leave now. Have either of you seen Hector?" The pair shook their heads. Aeneas looked at the ground.

"Brother, I believe that he has fallen. We must leave there is not much time." Aeneas looked at his brother pleading with him to leave now. Paris however would not return the gaze.

"Go, take Helen with you. I shall follow shortly. I must find Hector!" With that Paris ran off to search every corridor for his brother.

"Hector! Hector, where are you!? We need to leave now!" Paris was running through all the halls yelling and yet no response came.

"Hector!"

"Cease your constant bellowing, brother. I am not among the dead yet." Hector spoke as he came running towards Paris.

"Hector, I am truly glad to see you. Where is father? Did you find him?" Paris smiled broadly at his brother.

"I did, but he refused to come, he wishes to stay defending Troy until she falls." Hector gazed at Paris with hurt and frustration in his eyes.

"What? But brother, you cannot mean to leave father to die at the hands of the Greeks, do you?" Paris' anger was welling up inside him, to think that his beloved brother would leave behind their most wise and kind father.

"No, I did not intend to leave him to the Greeks, but he insisted. He said that if there was no Troy then she would need no King. After that he departed to face the Greek hordes alone. He made one request, that we get out with as many Trojans as possible." Hector looked at his brother, his eyes begging him not to continue with the subject.

Paris understood but still regretted it. "Alright brother. Your wife, Aeneas, and Helen have all gotten out already. We should leave as well. Let us go, brother." The two of them ran to the secret exit from Troy.

As they were leaving the city Paris took one last look back and understood how much pain and suffering he had caused, all because of his need for women. Meanwhile, back in Troy, King Priam had been cornered by King Agamemnon.

"Where is the ring, old man?" Agamemnon's words were hollow and harsh. He had been stabbed with spears, shot with arrows and had a sword swung at his head and yet no weapon had struck him down.

"You are a fool, Agamemnon. You desired power so much that you have become a slave to your own whims. You will have to search the whole kingdom for the ring. I hid it long ago and never sought it again. Now kill me, you demon, for I shall never tell you of its location." King Priam dropped his sword and got down on his hands and knees and awaited death.

Agamemnon let out a high-pitched screech that could cause men's ears to bleed, and yet King Priam made no motion to cover his ears or protect himself. He just continued kneeling there, waiting. "Very well, old fool! Die, and meet your gods in the next life!"

Agamemnon thrust his sword deep into King Priam's chest. Blood flowed freely from the wound and pooled at the base of the kings knees. King Priam slumped over, still defending his beautiful city and understanding that even if Troy fell, his lineage would not die. Agamemnon let out an inhuman scream as he went about searching the burning Troy for the eighth ring.

**XXXXXX**

Odysseus awoke with a start, the chains around his wrists clinking as he moved. He turned to look at his cellmate.

"How long have I been out for?"

The man responded in his monotone voice. "Not long, perhaps ten minutes. Be glad you got that much sleep. I have had to go without for the past seven days."

Odysseus looked surprised at the man, "That is not possible; no man has gone for more than three days without sleep and lived."

"Then I suppose it is good that I am not a man." Odysseus' cellmate beamed.

"What? Not a man? That is preposterous! Mankind is the only living thing with intelligence enough to speak." Odysseus said matter-of-factly.

"Oh really and what of your centaurs and satyrs? Are they not classified as intelligent?" The man said coolly.

"W-well those are simply mythical beings that men create to answer questions about our world." Odysseus hated that answer. He knew better than most men what it meant to be saying that.

"Then would it not be that men are the fools and animals are the wise ones?" The man knew he was gaining ground on Odysseus' argument.

Odysseus chose not to respond, knowing full well that he formulated a losing argument.

The man did not continue the discussion but he did see the look in Odysseus' eyes. "What troubles you?"

Odysseus looked at the man, a grave look upon his face. "The king I once fought for, I dreamt of him, but it was not him. The man I saw looked like my king but was pale and could not be killed by men."

The man nodded listening to his description. "I am surprised that you were able to leave your king's service. What you have just described is a Ring Wraith. They are always seeking the Ring of Sauron."

"That is not possible; Agamemnon has only two goals, to be the greatest king to ever exist, and to obtain all nine rings of the kings." Odysseus voice did not waver nor did he take the time to think about what he said. He was sure of the analysis that he had given on Agamemnon.

The man in the corner chuckled, "Then I suppose your king will get part of what he desires. If he is still seeking the rings then will fail, for soon his will shan't be his own. However, having claimed more than one of the nine rings he will be remembered above all other Ring Wraiths as the greatest of kings."

Odysseus could not grasp what this man was saying. To think that Agamemnon would be enslaved by rings seemed almost too impossible to believe. Odysseus leaned back to think about what the man had said.

_Could it be possible? Could Agamemnon's greed have caused his demise?_ Before he had a chance to continue pondering the question he heard a noise outside of the cell door. It was Patroclus.

"Have you been here before? You act as though you have terrible memories of this place," Odysseus heard him say, but to who he could not be sure until he heard her voice. He was not sure what she said because it was too quiet for him to understand, but he did hear her tone. It was fragile and soft, yet elegant and powerful.

"Hello? Patroclus, is that you? Please I am locked in this cell! Let me out!" Odysseus called out in a hushed tone to the voice outside.

Patroclus was walking a bit slower. He wanted to make sure that he did not miss anything in the halls, any sign that his cousin might, in fact, be in that forsaken place. He still did not hold much hope of finding his cousin until he heard a very familiar voice.

"Odysseus? Odysseus, is that you? Praise Zeus I found you." Patroclus slowly walked up to the cell to make sure that it was in fact a cell holding Odysseus and not some trap set by his enemies. When he looked in the cell he noticed Odysseus chained to the wall.

Patroclus pulled the latch yet it would not budge. In a fit of frustration Patroclus kicked the door causing the latch to break free of its holding. He threw the door open and ran up to greet Odysseus with a very large, and very painful, hug. Odysseus flinched at the contact.

"Oh, sorry! I was just so overcome with joy. Tell me, where is Achilles?"

"Achilles? He was taken away by the guards about ten minutes ago. To where, I do not know." Odysseus looked somber at the lack of knowledge involving his friend's whereabouts. Doing his best to keep everything lighthearted, he gave Patroclus the best smile that he could muster in his present condition.

"Well I haven't been completely bored. Fortunately that one has been keeping me company." Odysseus gestured over to the man sitting in the corner. Patroclus turned around to see and was met with a pair of very dark-looking eyes. The eyes were red as blood with pupils that seemed to be more like cat's eyes rather than human's. Patroclus could not take staring into those endless black voids awaiting his demise, so he returned his gaze to Odysseus.

"Come friend! We must get you out of here." Patroclus drew his sword and brought it down on the shackles around Odysseus' wrists and ankles causing them to shatter. He paused a moment before continuing.

Odysseus was baffled by Patroclus' hesitation. _Why would Patroclus stop now when they were so close to escape_? he thought. "Why do you stop? We must continue, I would rather not die in a dire place such as this."

Patroclus looked at Odysseus. "I fear moving you will cause you more injury."

"Injuries be damned, boy! We need to escape as soon as possible. Just pick me up and hand me to your compantion." It was at this time that Odysseus noticed that Ninniachel was standing behind Patroclus.

"Patroclus? Why is there a woman with you? Has Achilles taught you nothing of how to behave around women?" Odysseus was trying to get angry but the pain that he was in kept him from making more than a scowl at Patroclus.

This time it was Ninniachel's turn to speak up. "Do not mock me; what country do you come from that seeks to keep women at home while men fight? In our land anyone may fight, be they man or woman. Do try to remember that you are within our land for now."

Odysseus was silenced by her words, never before had he met a woman who was so willing to speak her mind, save his wife. He thought is wife was just an anomaly in the world of men. Yet this woman was speaking her mind just as well as any man. "My apologies madam, I am still unaware of your customs. Please forgive an old fool."

Ninniachel did not smile, nor did she scowl. She simply held a stoic face. "I forgive your transgression this time. However, learn our culture and ways before you speak again."

Odysseus looked at the ground, he knew that he had made a mistake but he sought to correct it as soon as the chance reared itself.

Patroclus picked Odysseus up, who winced in pain as he was moved. "Ninniachel, help me. Take him out of here and get to safety."

Ninniachel grabbed Odysseus and hoisted him up to his feet. "Where will you go?"

Patroclus smiled at Ninniachel. "To rescue my cousin." With that he ran off towards the arena.

Ninniachel did not call out to him but simply turned and walked back towards the escape door hidden in the rear of the fortress.

Achilles stumbled to his feet. The Troll had more power than he had previously expected. To throw him against a wall was not much more than a flick of the finger for the great beast. Achilles looked along the wall for his sword, taking notice of all the other weapons hanging on the wall.

He found his sword but unfortunately it was on the other side of the troll, who was now charging towards Achilles at full speed. It was then that his warrior's instinct kicked in. Without even thinking he picked up a small spear off the wall and threw it at the Troll's face.

As it flew through the air it caught the Troll on the side of the face leaving a deep gash along the cheek of the steel blue creature. The Troll took a step back and let out a deep bellow as it reached up to hold the gaping wound. While the beast was preoccupied with its injury, Achilles grabbed another blade off the wall and ran up to the creature.

Running underneath its legs Achilles turned around and sliced the backs of its knees, causing the giant to crumple under its own weight. As the beast lay on the ground moaning in agony, Achilles walked around to the front of it and placed the sword against the Troll's neck. With one fell swoop the Troll's throat was sliced and its lifeblood came spilling out in large black globs.

From the shadows of the archway Patroclus watched his cousin kill the second troll with ease. It was then that he remembered how strong of a warrior Achilles truly was. The crowd of orcs, on the other hand, was not as pleased. The orc Jailer held up his hand to signal the archers. As his hand raised, all the orcs in the stands pulled out their bows and nocked arrows preparing to fire.

Achilles spoke up "You demanded a show, so I gave you one. Now then I have completed your challenge of the Trolls. Let my kin and I leave. We have no quarrel with you." Achilles was clearly lying to the orc Jailer but he knew that he could not kill him from inside the caged arena.

"That is true Human, you did give us a good show, but I never promised you freedom upon victory. I gave you two options, to die in an interesting way or to starve to death in our prison. You chose to die in an interesting way. Now I am granting that wish." With that the orc let his hand fall, causing all the orcs to let loose a volley of arrows that extinguished all light as they flew towards their target.

Patroclus was watching everything as it occurred and started to open the gate as soon as Achilles had slain the beast. To his dismay the gate was not yet open enough as the volley of arrows was released. The last thing Patroclus saw was Achilles, smiling, as the arrows covered his view.

"ACHILLES!" Patroclus howled at the top of his lungs.

As the dust cleared all you could see was a pile of arrows, each of which had imbedded themselves deep within the ground, and the black area where Achilles was standing.

Patroclus looked upon the scene with sadness, his cousin, who was supposed to be the invulnerable warrior was lying dead on the ground covered in so many arrows that you couldn't even see his body. Tears began to run down Patroclus' face as he imagined what his body would look like now. Using all of his strength he pulled the gate up the rest of the way and locked it so that it would not close again.

Patroclus ran out on to the Arena field and stopped just before the bed of arrows.

"Achilles? Achilles? Achilles!" Patroclus cried out at the death of his cousin.

The orc jailer spoke up when he noticed the kneeling boy in the arena. "Who are you? How did you get in here?"

Patroclus looked up from the mat of arrows and stared directly at the orc Jailer.

"My name is Patroclus, I am cousin to the great Achilles. We set out from our homes in search of answers. We sought no war and yet you killed him for your amusement…" Patroclus eyes seemed to flare up with rage and anger. "YOU KILLED HIM FOR YOUR AMUSEMENT! YOU KILLED ACHILLES! YOU KILLED MY COUSIN, AND FOR THAT YOU MUST DIE!"

Patroclus shot up from his knees and picked up the spear that Achilles had thrown. He aimed the spear and let it loose. As the spear flew Patroclus could see every movement being made by the Jailer. First was an attempt to signal another volley of arrows to kill Patroclus, the next was shock and surprise as he watched the spear fly towards his face. Lastly was a look of terror as the Jailer discovered that he could not escape the spear in time to save himself.

"Fire at-" the Jailer's sentence was cut off as the spear lodged itself in the orc's eye socket and exited the other side. When the other orcs saw this they panicked and began to flee from the arena. None of them wanted to face the wrath of a man with such deadly aim. As the arena stands emptied Patroclus knelt down near the bed of arrows and began to cry. In his sorrow he failed to notice that Ninniachel, who was almost carrying Odysseus, had come into the arena. She set Odysseus up against the wall and went over and knelt with Patroclus. She said nothing, just silently grieved with him.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

His eyes fluttered open. When he awoke he found himself lying on the bank of a beach with black sand. The sand felt cool against his skin, and water from the river lapped at his feet. Despite the comforting feeling he was getting from the location, he knew, somewhere in his mind, that this place was not meant for him, at least not yet. As he looked down the beach he noticed that a boat was washed up on the shore with an old man sitting next to it with his oar. The man stood up and walked over to the old ferryman.

"Well met, tell me, where is this place? I seek knowledge concerning my whereabouts."

The old man did not look up but simply spoke to the ground. "You are at a crossroad, friend. You have only one choice, but two roads. Choose the road you wish to travel wisely, and we shall see what the fates have in store for you."

The man looked frustrated at the old ferryman's statement. "I only seek information about where I am; I do not have time for riddles."

It was then that the old man looked up. "I give you no riddles, great Achilles. You seek information and I give it willingly. Now then, as I told you, you're at a crossroad. Choose your path wisely for you have only one choice."

Achilles pondered what the old man said for a minute. "I choose the road with the greatest hardships, for only in the greatest hardships can one find out who he truly is."

The old man smiled at Achilles. "Just as it was determined even before you came here. You have chosen your path, now you must follow it to the end." With that the old man inhaled deeply and blew out. Upon his exhale Achilles was sent flying backwards towards a small light that steadily grew larger. The spot of light continued to grow until it looked big enough to encompass the whole world.

Patroclus rose up from the needlelike bed of arrows covering the ground. The tears had left streaks down his face, washing away the built-up dirt and grime. He turned around to face Odysseus. "Well then, old friend," Patroclus spoke in the most emotionally devoid voice he could, and still the words quivered as they left his mouth. "We should probably get moving. We need to prepare funeral rites."

As Patroclus walked away, the arrows moved slightly.

He could feel it, the slight warmth of the sun upon his face, and yet the ever nagging feeling of pain that only comes from serious injuries. As the light slowly engulfed Achilles he could feel his mind returning to his body. Then it hit; the extreme pain of each and every arrow in his body. With the return of this pain he let out an excruciating cry that made all the people around him cringe for a moment before they discovered where the sound was coming from.

Patroclus turned back around and began to pull the arrows out of the ground. He had heard it, the cry of pain from his cousin that signaled the still-beating heart within his chest.

"Achilles!" Patroclus shouted as he was ripping the arrows out of the loose earth.

Achilles was regaining control of his limbs very slowly. As he moved his arm he felt it weighed down by a heavy object. First he thought he was just weak from losing blood. However the memory returned to him. As he lifted his arm up a massive black shield rose up from on top of him. The shield had protected him, mostly, from severe injury by the arrows but not enough to keep him clear of all of them. A couple arrows were lodged in his shoulders and three were lodged in his feet. Never before had he experience such burning pain. He was not unaccustomed to pain but to have the object of your pain sitting in you for long periods of time was something he had never felt before.

"P-patro-clus?" Achilles words were sporadic as he spoke, belying the seriousness of the injuries he had sustained. "H-help me u-up."

Patroclus did not even check to see if Achilles was able to stand he just hauled the great warrior up from the ground and slung Achilles' arm over his shoulder.

"Do not worry, cousin, we will get you back to safety. We just need to get out of here."

Ninniachel was just as stunned as Odysseus and Patroclus were to find out that Achilles was still alive. "Patroclus, be gentile. He still has arrows in him. Moving him too much while they are there could cause more serious injury."

"Very well," Patroclus said as he sat Achilles down. "Do you have a better idea? I see nothing to carry him with."

Ninniachel looked around for a minute before she responded. "Yes, yes I do." Ninniachel walked away from Patroclus and Achilles to pick up a couple of long spears off the wall. Ninniachel then removed her cloak and tied two corners to each spear. When she was done what she had built resembled a cot without any legs.

"What in the name of Zeus is that?" Patroclus said pointing to the makeshift object Ninniachel had created.

Ninniachel looked puzzled at Patroclus, "Have you never seen a stretcher before?"

Odysseus spoke up for Patroclus, "He has, however he would not remember since he was on it. Ever since then Achilles had been reluctant to even let Patroclus back onto a battlefield. He has a large scar down his back that shows where he was injured."

Odysseus made a jester that resembled a jagged slash through the air.

Patroclus turned pale white, "I was near death?"

Odysseus quickly patched up the misunderstanding he had left with the boy. "No, no not even close, but the gash did knock you out. The doctors were concerned you would never walk again. But when you woke up you moved around like there was no problem. You not only shocked me but also your cousin." Odysseus gestured to Achilles, who was sitting on the ground taking sharp shallow breaths.

"I would like to hear this story some time if you would be willing to tell it." Ninniachel asked Odysseus.

"As would I." Patroclus said matter-of-factly.

"I would be glad to tell you everything about your injury. However, now is not the time. We need to get Achilles to safety so that he may be healed."

"Yes, of course. Ninniachel, can you give me hand moving him?" Patroclus asked

"Certainly, but what of Odysseus?"

Odysseus was fine to the point that he could stand and walk around well enough. To prove this fact he stood up and walked over to Achilles. "I will be fine, thank you for getting me out, but I am not in dire need of attention like Achilles is." Odysseus hauled Achilles up from the ground and brought him over to the makeshift stretcher.

Patroclus helped Odysseus lower Achilles into the stretcher. "Ninniachel, could you grab the other end? I know that Odysseus says he is okay, but I still feel that he is not as strong as he would like us to believe." Patroclus spoke, fully understanding that Odysseus was right behind him.

"That is a serious insult to your elder and superior."

"You are not my superior here, I answer to Achilles and Achilles only, we are far from Greece, old friend, and far from her political webs."

Odysseus could not help but chuckle at Patroclus' statement. It had not occurred to him until now, but Patroclus was right, he was no king here, and he was far younger than many of the inhabitants. As he turned around to start walking out he discovered something that he feared he had lost forever. Hanging on the wall, surrounded by dozens of others was his bow. Odysseus walked over to the wall and picked it up, the touch of the warm oak in his hands and the feel of the leather hand grip were two things he thought he would never feel again.

"Odysseus?" Patroclus placed his hand on Odysseus' shoulder. Odysseus' eyes blinked twice as he returned to reality.

"Right, sorry. Let's get moving." Odysseus returned to the gate and walked out, followed closely behind by Ninniachel and Patroclus.

As the group returned to the cell, Odysseus stopped to see if he could release the bonds surrounding the other man's wrists. However, upon entering the cell the man who was chained up with Achilles and Odysseus was gone. The chains that had once bound his hands were now dangling from the ceiling. Odysseus grabbed the leather pouch of rings that was sitting on the floor where Odysseus had been chained. He checked to make sure the two rings were still there. Once he was sure, he tied the small leather pouch around his wrist. Odysseus looked perplexed as he stepped out of the cell, a look that did not go unnoticed by Patroclus and Ninniachel.

"What is wrong, Odysseus?"

"Nothing Patroclus, it is just that the man who was in the cell with Achilles and myself is no longer in it, and the bonds that surrounded his wrists are now on the ceiling, as though they were put away before he left."

Ninniachel looked concerned at Odysseus' statement. "What do you mean? There was no man in the cell with you, at least none that I saw."

"But Ninniachel, what Odysseus says is the truth. There was another man in the room. His eyes were something like I had never seen, two slits like a cat that seemed endlessly devoid of love and compassion. It made my blood run cold."

Ninniachel looked shocked by Patroclus' description of the man's eyes. "We must leave now! There is no time to explain but we cannot dwell here any longer! Patroclus, help me. Odysseus, do you have everything you need? For we shan't be returning to this haunted place."

Patroclus and Odysseus were dumbfounded by this sudden change in attitude by Ninniachel, but neither of the two men chose to speak against her. The two looked at each other and then back at Ninniachel.

"Yes, we are ready," Odysseus said with all seriousness.

"Good, then we must make a hasty retreat." As soon as Patroclus picked up the other end of the stretcher, Ninniachel bolted into a dead sprint, with Patroclus barely keeping up.

Odysseus saw how fast Ninniachel was moving and decided that he should move as well. Just like when he followed Achilles, Odysseus began to run after the elfin woman.

"I do hope that she is slower than Achilles," Odysseus whispered to himself.

"Ninniachel, please slow down. I have a hard time keeping up with Odysseus, but you run almost as fast as my cousin!" Patroclus pleaded with her. He could feel the burning in his caves from the intense running.

"No, we cannot slow our pace. If we do we might be too late." This time it was Ninniachel's turn to tell Patroclus what to do.

Patroclus understood that Ninniachel knew things that he did not at this point so he stopped talking and did his best to keep up with Ninniachel. He looked back once to see if Odysseus was still there only to find that Odysseus was right next to him. Keeping pace with Ninniachel seemed to be a fairly easy task for the Ithican king.

Odysseus gave Patroclus a big smile when he saw the bewildered look upon his face. "Come on boy, you're younger than me. You should _easily_ be able to keep up with Ninniachel better than that." Odysseus jested.

The pace that the group was making consisted of such speed that in the time it took them to reach Ost-Morsereg was more than half the time it took for them to return to Harlond. Upon entering the city the guard came running up to Ninniachel.

"Lady Ninniachel, it is wonderful to see you back and unharmed." Then the guard noticed Achilles and Odysseus.

"I need you to summon the healers, now!" Ninniachel commanded the guard.

"R-right away, my lady." The guard scurried off leaving the four companions standing just inside of the gate.

It was then that they heard it. Ninniachel heard it first, followed by Odysseus - the all-too familiar sound of arrow fire at point blank range.

"Get down!" Odysseus bellowed.

As if on command, Patroclus dropped to the ground along with Ninniachel. The two of them pulled Achilles behind the wall to protect him from any further injury. Just as they had finished moving Achilles, as though it were on cue, a volley of black-shafted arrows came flying over the wall and into Harlond.

"What?" Patroclus shouted over the din of the falling arrows. "These are orc arrows. I thought they scattered after I killed the jailer."

Ninniachel looked at Patroclus. "Yes, you did scatter them, but they have regrouped. They were told to attack us for a reason. Do either of you have anything that might be of value to them or their master?"

"Nothing that I am aware of. What about you, Odysseus?" Patroclus looked towards the Ithican king who did not respond.

"Odysseus?" Ninniachel questioned.

"I might." Odysseus held up the pouch with the two rings in it. "In here are two rings that came from the north. There were nine of them sent to the south, seven of them now belong to one king, the last two are here with me, Achilles and I were taking them to Rivendell, it was requested of Achilles by a man whose name starts with an 'E'. We never got any other information. However the man was a good friend of king Peleus, Achilles' father, so he trusts him outright."

Ninniachel's eyes widened, "You're telling me that Achilles' father was the famed King Peleus?"

Odysseus was puzzled by her astonished look. "Yes, yes he was. However, we have no reason to call him famed back in Greece. In fact, in Greece, he never did much of anything to warrant fame of any kind. His kingdom remained small, his wealth was never so great, nor did he fight in any great wars. Why do you and your kin call him famed?"

Ninniachel was about to explain when an arrow landed right next to her. "I will tell you later. For now we need to fend off these orcs. Patroclus, Odysseus and I will buy you time. You take Achilles to the library. He will be safe there. Knowledge is one of the Elves' greatest treasures, so our libraries are built like fortresses."

"I understand, Ninniachel. Take care of yourself. You too, Odysseus." Patroclus nodded to the two of them then hauled Achilles up from the stretcher and began to carry him away. As he left, Ninniachel got up on the wall, quickly followed by Odysseus, and the two of them began to fire arrows out into the night.

Patroclus dare not look back after that for fear of seeing a terrible sight. Once he reached the library and laid Achilles on an empty table, the guard who had run off to find a healer came up to him.

"My Lord, I was sent by Lady Ninniachel, she needs your aid in defending the wall." The guard gave Patroclus a stern look.

However Patroclus reciprocated the stern look with one of his own. "No, I trust Ninniachel and Odysseus to handle everything on their own. I am sure that they will not need my help."

"But my lord, please-" The guard implored Patroclus. When the guard saw that Patroclus could not be swayed he became angry, angrier than any man Patroclus had ever seen.

"I was hoping you would have left your cousin alone, killing him would have been easier then. Since you insist upon staying then I will simply kill the both of you." The guard brandished his sword from its sheath and brought it down faster than Patroclus could react.

As the sword came down upon Patroclus the only thing he could do is think, _How? How has everything come to an end so quickly?_

When the sword was about to make contact it suddenly stopped. Patroclus heard the sound of clashing metal on metal and looked to his left. Achilles had gotten up and defended him in the blink of an eye.

Achilles looked at the guard with a questioning gaze. "You look like the woman who helped to save me. But you to not act like her. Tell me, who do you fight for? Why do you fight?"

The guard was shocked to see that Achilles, with his severe injuries, had stood up, drawn his sword, and parried his blow so quickly. The guard's eyes narrowed as he spoke to Achilles.

"I fight for my lord Sauron, and I fight to dominate everything." The guard gave Achilles a smug look. "And you, boy, what do you fight for?"

Achilles gave the guard a dark smile. "I am ashamed to find that one, who is supposed to be of such noble birth, would seek to follow the will of a madman. I fight for one purpose and one purpose only. I thought it might have been to win eternal glory and fame on the field of battle, however that changed."

The guard laughed at that statement. "Then why fight? What is the purpose of it all if not eternal glory?"

Achilles leaned in close and whispered into the elf's ear. "I fight, elf, because I know that I can only find true and everlasting peace in my death."

As though he were solidifying his answer to the guard's question he made one swift motion. In that motion he pushed the sword of the elf away, brought his own down to his waist, and thrust it deep into the elf's stomach. As the elf crumpled over, his eyes went wide and then closed as Achilles finished him off by twisting his blade through the guard's entrails.

Once the elf was dead Achilles looked at Patroclus and smiled.

"It looks like you owe me another one, cousin." With that Achilles collapsed.

Patroclus was so stunned by what just happened that when his cousin collapsed all Patroclus could do is stutter his name, "Ach-Achilles?"


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

Sam was cooking dinner. The smell of the bacon with sausage and potatoes made Frodo's mouth water. While waiting for Sam to finish cooking, Frodo opened a book, lit his tobacco and smoked some of the Long Bottom leaf the pair had brought with them. While reading he heard a noise. It was a faint noise, but it steadily grew louder as though it was coming closer. Frodo laid his hand on Sam's shoulder. Sam looked up at Frodo.

"Mr. Frodo?"

"Sam, do you hear that?"

Sam stopped talking and just listened, and then he heard it too. "Do you want to go see?"

"I think we would be ruing our chances if we didn't." Frodo smiled at Sam and the two of them ran off.

Hiding behind a rock the two of them watched, in secret, as elves passed by singing the beautiful melody. The harmonic melody was sung with such elegance and grace that one could not help but to slip into a blissful reverie.

"_Fanuilos heryn aglar, Rîn athar annún-aearath,__Calad ammen i reniar,__Mi 'aladhremmin ennorath! A Elbereth Gilthoniel,__I chîn a thûl lin míriel,__Fanuilos le linnathon,__Ne ndor haer thar i aearon. A elin na gaim eglerib,__Ned în ben-anor trerennin,__Si silivrin ne pherth 'waewib,__Cenim lyth thílyn thuiennin. A Elbereth Gilthoniel,__Men echenim sí derthiel,__Ne chaered hen nu 'aladhath,__Ngilith or annún-aearath." _

The elves sang perfectly in unison, making the music even more haunting than it already was.

"Where are they going Mr. Frodo?"

"To the Grey Havens, Sam. They're leaving Middle Earth forever. I do not know why, but it makes me sad."

When the elves finished passing by, the two companions went back to their camp site and had dinner. After they ate they found a seemingly soft patch of ground, and lay down to rest. Frodo was still wide awake and thinking about the elves they had just seen when Sam's voice broke the silence.

"It is no use, Mr. Frodo. Every which way I turn there is a big ugly root or some other thing sticking into my back."

This made Frodo smile, Sam was always such a kind person, but he could never handle hardships well.

"It is okay Sam, just close your eyes and imagine that you are back in your bed."

Sam gave a semi defeated sigh. "Alright Mr. Frodo but I would still prefer a bed."

"So would I Sam, so would I." With that Frodo and Sam slipped into a deep sleep.

The next morning went off without a problem; the two of them packed up and continued their journey. Just before entering into a corn field, Sam stopped. Frodo, not hearing Sam's usual clatter of pots and pans turned around to look at him.

"Sam?"

"This is it."

"What is?"

"If I take one more step, this will be the farthest away from home that I have ever been."

Frodo walked over to Sam and put his arm over his shoulders. "Come on Sam, you know what Bilbo used to say. 'It's dangerous business Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, you never know where you might be swept off too.'"

As the two of them walked they decided to take a short-cut through the corn field. Stepping out of the maze of corn, Sam found himself to be alone. Frodo had vanished. Sam looked around franticly, each passing second he became more panicked.

"Mr. Frodo?" Sam began to run one way on the path. "Frodo!"

Frodo rushed back to Sam. "Sam? What's wrong?"

Sam let out a sigh of relief. "I thought I had lost you." Frodo gave Sam a puzzled look. "It was just something Mr. Gandalf said. He said 'Don't you loose him Samwise Gamgee', and I don't intend to."

Frodo chuckled a little. "Sam, we are still in the Shire! What could possibly go wrong?" As if on cue Pippin ran out of the corn field and right into Frodo, followed closely by Merry who ran into Sam.

"Frodo!" Pippin exclaimed. "Merry, look! It's Frodo!" Pippin shouted, giving Merry his goofy smile. Sam shoved Merry off him and ran over to Pippin. He dragged Pippin off of Frodo and hauled Frodo up. While helping to get the dirt off Frodo, Pippin and Merry were bent over picking up vegetables. Sam looked down at the two of them.

"You've been into Farmer Maggot's crops, haven't you?" A little ways away the four companions could hear Farmer Maggot shouting for the 'Thieves' to stop. He could not be seen because the corn was so high, but his scythe could be seen, and his dogs could be heard. Merry and Pippin quickly picked up the rest of the vegetables and gave them to Sam, then, grabbing Frodo, Merry and Pippin ran off leaving Sam standing there with all the vegetables. In panic, Sam dropped all of the vegetables and ran off, trying to catch up to Frodo, Merry, and Pippin.

The three companions kept running until Pippin stopped at a cliff with a rather drastic drop. Putting his arms out to keep the rest of the trio from falling off, Frodo and Merry stopped at his arms, peering cautiously over the edge. Sam, however, did not notice the drop off and ran right into the backs of the other three. With that they toppled over the side of the cliff, rolling down until they landed on a leaf-covered road.

"Oh, that was close," Pippin said as he looked over to his left to see a pile of rather fresh horse manure on the side of the road, less than six inches from his face.

Sam got up slowly stretching himself out as he got up to make sure nothing was injured.

"Oh I think I've broken something." Merry said as he sat up. He reached behind himself and pulled out a carrot that was under him when he hit the ground, it had snapped in half. Merry almost started to cry when he saw it.

"What was that?!" Sam said angrily to Merry and Pippin.

"A short cut." Merry said.

"Really, a short cut to what?" Sam glared at Merry. Right then Pippin spoke up.

"Mushrooms!" Merry, Pippin, and Sam all scrambled over to the small collection of mushrooms growing off of an old log. Frodo did not go over to the mushrooms. He looked down the road.

"I think we should get off the road," Frodo said, though he was ignored by the other three Hobbits.

Looking back down the road he heard an inhuman scream and saw the trees begin to warp at the sound. "Get off the road now!"

This time the three of them listened. They ran off the road and hid under an overhanging root. While they were hiding, Sam, Merry, and Pippin were looking through the bag of mushrooms. They stopped when they heard the sound of hoof steps. Shortly after the hoof step sounds ceased, a metal boot hit the ground, its iron sections screeching as they moved with the motion of the foot contained within them. A shadowy figure bent down and began to sniff; its sniffing was like that of a wolf seeking its prey. As it sniffed all manner of dangerous and disgusting insects began to crawl out of their hiding places. Frodo started to fall into a trance like state. He began to reach for the ring and was preparing to put it on when Sam's hand landed over his, keeping the ring from his grasp. Frodo snapped out of his trance, and Merry took the bag of mushrooms and threw them away from where the four companions were hiding.

Upon hearing the mushrooms land on the ground, the shadowy figure let out another inhuman scream and ran towards the noise. In the chaos the four companions ran from the shadowy figure and into a thicket of young trees.

"What was that?" Pippin asked through heavy breaths.

XXXXX

Achilles awoke in a soft bed. Sitting up he discovered that he was no longer wearing his armor; it, along with his sword, was lying on a table across from his bed. Patroclus walked into the room carrying a bowl of water.

"Cousin! You're awake!" Patroclus beamed at Achilles. He set down the bowl and walked over to Achilles. "Odysseus, come quick! Achilles is awake!"

Odysseus dashed into the room. "Praise Zeus, we thought we lost you."

Ninniachel stepped into the room. "We may well have, had it not been for my mother Silmarwen."

Achilles looked at Ninniachel. "I should like to thank your mother then. May I meet her?"

Ninniachel looked dolefully at the floor. "I am afraid not, she left for the West two days ago."

Achilles saw the look on her face and understood that it was not something she wanted to talk about.

"Alright then, we should probably get going." Achilles got out of the bed and stood up. He cringed slightly, as his body ached everywhere.

"Cousin, please. You are not fully healed. You cannot leave yet," Patroclus pleaded.

"You should be more aware of what Patroclus says; he has been by your side since we found you at that black fortress." Odysseus gave Achilles a serious gaze.

"I know, and thank you, Patroclus, for looking out for me." Achilles put his hand on Patroclus' shoulder. "However, I cannot remain here any longer. In the time I slumbered the dream has become worse. Something tells me that things are happening faster than was expected and action must be taken." Achilles turned to face Ninniachel. "I may not be able to travel quickly on foot in my condition. Do you have horses?"

Ninniachel thought about it for a minute. "Yes, the stables are just outside of the city."

"Good, then grab four of them. We will need to move fast." Achilles walked over and donned his armor and sword. "We need to get to Rivendell as soon as possible, and since we do not know the way I was hoping that you could lead us there."

"Certainly. It would be my honor to help those who have helped me." Ninniachel bowed to her waist and walked out of the room to go prepare the horses. Patroclus walked out of the room to go gather his things. Odysseus stopped at the doorway and leaned against the frame.

"Odysseus, why are you still here? We are leaving. You need to gather your gear." Achilles never looked at Odysseus.

"You are not leaving because of a dream. Why are you really leaving?"

"I already told you. My dreams have been getting worse of late and we need to go."

"No they haven't, because I have been having the same dreams as you and mine have stopped since we have been here. So why, really, are we leaving?"

"Do not push the topic Odysseus; it is not for you to know."

"I must though, if something is causing you grief or pain I need to know so I can help you with it. I am your friend and confidant, you can tell me anything."

"I told you it is not for you to know!" Achilles turned around to Odysseus and gave him a piercing look that was almost as sharp as Achilles' blade. Achilles turned back around and finished tying up his sandals.

Odysseus sighed and walked out. "Fine, if you want to talk about it we will have the time later."

After Odysseus walked out Achilles' eyes began to tear up. He blinked once to wipe the unwanted guest away. "I know, Odysseus. I know." He spoke under his breath.

Ten minutes later the four companions mounted their horses and rode off towards Rivendell. After about four hours of riding, Patroclus rode up next to Ninniachel.

"How long do you suspect it will take us to get to Rivendell?"

Ninniachel looked at the Greek warrior; his bronze skin glowed under the pale moonlight. She blushed slightly, but hoped that Patroclus had not seen.

"At the rate that we are going it should not take us more than three days to get to our first stop. There we will load up on supplies and materials and then we will continue our journey to Rivendell. After our first stop it will not take us more than a week at most."

"That is good, I would like for us to end this journey as soon as possible. I grow weary and seek to return home."

Behind the two of them Achilles and Odysseus rode in almost complete silence. Odysseus spoke under his breath. "They seem like they would be good together, don't they."

Achilles, who had been watching Ninniachel intently nodded slightly. "Yes, and I think that she could always keep Patroclus on his toes. That is good. He needs a woman who will keep him in line and make sure he never forgets what his duties are in life."

The four riders stopped on the side of the road next to a small pond and set up tents for the night. After an hour everyone was asleep except for Achilles. A memory playing in his head over and over again kept him from shutting his eyes.

'_You cannot save them, you will fight, you will kill, and you will beg but nothing you do will protect them. At the end of it all, nothing will remain, save the memory and someone who will speak of it all.'_

Achilles stared up at the sky and looked at all the thousands of stars in the sky, hoping that one of them might be watching over the trio behind him. He did not hear Ninniachel approach until she spoke.

"They are a gift by the Valar."

Achilles jumped a little. "What?"

"The stars." Ninniachel pointed to the sky. "They were made by the Valar to light our world."

"I was looking up, hoping to see the star of Zeus, but I cannot seem to find it. The stars here are different than those in Greece." Achilles paused for a minute before speaking again. "Do you care about him?"

"Excuse me?" Ninniachel was a little surprised by Achilles' question.

"Do you care about him? Patroclus, I mean." Achilles looked at Ninniachel expecting her to answer.

"I guess that the answer is yes." Ninniachel looked back up at the sky. "Imagine, an elf falling in love with a mortal man, it seems irrational. But it has happened before."

"Protect him, please. I ask of you only this one thing - keep him safe from harm. Wherever he goes, you must follow. I have a concern that I will not always be around to watch out for him. So promise me that you will keep him safe to the best of your abilities."

Ninniachel looked at Achilles again and saw his eyes pleading with her to say 'yes'.

"Alright I will help you to protect him in any situation." Ninniachel looked back towards the sky.

"Good, I am glad you care enough." After that statement Achilles walked off to his tent and climbed onto the bed and went to sleep. Ninniachel stayed up a little longer looking at the sky. She smiled softly.

"Yes, yes I do love him."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

King Agamemnon's fleet made impressive progress over the last three weeks of sailing. The fair winds and strong currents brought the ships to their destination faster than expected. Nestor was out on the bow of the ship when a messenger came up to him from behind.

"Lord Nestor, King Agamemnon wishes to speak with you." Nestor turned around to look at the messenger.

"What about? Did he say?"

"No, sir, King Agamemnon did not tell me what he wanted to speak about, but he demanded that you come, he said it was urgent." Nestor gave a heavy sigh.

"Alright, thank you, scribe." Nestor stood up as straight as he could, and walked into Agamemnon's Great Cabin. Upon entering the cabin Nestor was greeted by a rather unusual site. Agamemnon could not be seen. He was wearing all black, as though he was in mourning, however to top it off even his face was covered so that no one could see it. On his hands he wore black leather gloves. With all of this combined Agamemnon appeared to be a shade returned from the underworld.

"Great king," Nestor bowed low. "I was told you are in need of my services. What can I help you with?"

Agamemnon said nothing, but instead drew his sword. With a single swift slice, Agamemnon lopped off Nestor's head. As he died Nestor thought about how things had come to this. Just before the blade struck, his life began to replay itself to him.

"Nestor, I would like you to meet my son Agamemnon." The now fifteen-year-old man looked down at the seven-year-old boy.

"He will be king one day and when he is you will be his royal adviser. That means that you will aid him in everything he does, be it war, or peace." King Atreus was called over by one of his advisers.

Nestor heard them talking in hushed voices. As the adviser spoke his voice was somber and at the same time terrified, as though the words that he was speaking to King Atreus would get him killed.

"My lord, I beg your forgiveness but I bring grave news. Your eldest son, Kyprios is dead. He, along with his contingent of equetai, were slain by bandits on the way back from the Trade mission you planned for Pylos." King Atreus stumbled backwards, as though the knowledge of his eldest son's death struck him a physical blow.

"Dead? No, it cannot be!" King Atreus' voice was shaky. "He was perfectly groomed for the task. Only _he_ could have united all of Greece under one banner. No, this cannot be! No I will not accept it!" King Atreus sat back in a chair and held his head in his hand as he wept about the loss of his son.

"My lord," the adviser got down on one knee to bring his head lower than that of his kings as he spoke. "the information gets worse. The bandits were wearing clothes that bared the dolphin standard of the Minoans."

"This is not possible. The Minoans have always been our allies. Never have we struck a blow to each other." Atreus looked at his adviser.

"I think that our tenuous peace with the Minoans is over, they have already taken Argos. Without Argos we lose half of our trading income in the Aegean."

King Atreus shot up from his throne. He face was bright red, and contorted into an image of rage. "Fine, they want to war with the Great Mycenaean empire? Then let them come! We will beat them with superior forces and greater numbers. Call upon the ship builders, call upon the soldiers in waiting. We are going to war!"

Agamemnon was now sixteen years old and was quickly becoming a shrewd diplomat and warlord. In his first five months as king of Mycenae he had subdued the rebels who wanted his younger brother Menelaus on the throne. He had moved on Sparta and conquered its mighty kings. Then, as a show of good faith, he put his brother upon the throne of Sparta. Though it was also a clever ploy, for upon the throne of Sparta Agamemnon's brother would have to fight with the armies of Sparta rather than royalists. Not to mention the fact that the armies of Sparta would never trust a man who was placed upon the throne by an invading king. One special day the former king Atreus called his son into his room. On his death bed he gave his son one last gift.

"My son-", Atreus' words were cut off as he took a sharp and shallow breath. "I give to you one last gift. It was meant to go to your older brother when he took the throne but things changed. Now I hand it to you, Agamemnon. This ring signifies lordship over all of Mycenae. Use its power well." With those last words Atreus' eyes slid shut and he died.

Agamemnon did not shed a tear. "I will, Father. I will." As Agamemnon walked out of his father's room he placed the ring on his finger.

Agamemnon was now forty-five. He had forged a loose alliance throughout all of Greece. In this "alliance" Mycenae ruled. Only two nations still stood free against Mycenae's might, the kingdom of Thessaly, ruled by Triopas, and Troy ruled by the benevolent King Priam.

The planes of Thessaly were hot, hotter than anything Nestor was used to but if his king wanted Thessaly then his king would get Thessaly. Triopas rode out first on his chariot. Agamemnon followed closely behind until the two met in the center of the field. Nestor remained silent in the chariot as the two kings spoke.

Agamemnon looked to the sky and saw crows and vultures flying overhead. "Good day for the crows."

Triopas was not even half amused by his joke. "Remove your armies from my land at once!" Triopas was just barely containing the anger in his heart.

Agamemnon noticed this and decided to mock him further. "I like your land, I think we'll stay." Triopas was about to speak again when Agamemnon spoke over him. "I do not want to watch another massacre." Agamemnon emphasized the word massacre, doing his best to imply that his army would decimate that of Thessaly. "Let us do it like they did in the old days, your best against my best."

Triopas was intrigued by this, "If my man wins?"

Agamemnon looked right into Triopas' eyes and told him a blatant lie, "We will leave Thessaly for good."

Triopas smirked at this and called out his best man. "Boagrius!" Triopas bellowed at the top of his lungs. Out of the army came a giant of a man. He stood almost seven feet tall and had battle scars all across his body. Nestor knew that this man could have given Ajax a true challenge. However for Achilles, this man would be no more than a fly on his face.

"Achilles!" Agamemnon shouted even louder than Triopas. However Achilles did not appear.

Triopas chuckled at this. "Do not worry, Boagrius has this effect on many would-be heroes."

Agamemnon glared at Triopas, "Be careful who you insult, old king." A runner from Agamemnon's army came up to the great king and knelt.

"My king, Achilles is not with the army."

"What! Where is he!?"

"I have sent the boy to look for him."

While awaiting the arrival of Achilles, Agamemnon spoke with Nestor. "I swear to you that Achilles will be punished for all of the deeds he has done against me. He needs to learn how to follow orders." Agamemnon was enraged at Achilles' actions. It was not the first time that Achilles had abandoned his post in the Mycenaean army.

"My king, I have tried to explain this to you time and time again. Achilles is not a man who can be controlled. He is a wild animal and need only be set loose upon a battle field."

Agamemnon was about to speak when the entire Mycenaean army began to chant "Achilles! Achilles! Achilles!" This upset Agamemnon even more, to know that his army had greater respect for Achilles than himself was disconcerting, to say the least.

Achilles rode up on his horse and jumped off. He donned his shield and grabbed his spear. Agamemnon could not contain his anger and spoke harshly to Achilles. "Perhaps we should have a war tomorrow when you're better rested. I should have you whipped for your impudence."

With that last sentence Achilles stopped. He turned to look at Agamemnon. "Perhaps you should fight." To drive his point homeward Achilles began to walk away from the battle field to go back to his tent. However before he could leave the battlefield he was stopped by Nestor.

"Achilles, Achilles. Look at these men, look at their faces. You could end this with a swing of your sword. Send them home to their wives." Nestor's words were calm and controlled. What he spoke of rang true to Achilles, he hated to see good men die in battle, and if it could be helped he would end the battle as soon as possible.

Achilles turned around and stabbed his spear into the ground. "Imagine a king who fights his own battles, wouldn't that be a sight." Achilles' words were as venomous as any snake in all of Greece, yet Agamemnon was not fazed by this.

As Achilles walked towards Boagrius Agamemnon spoke softly to Nestor. "Of all the warlords loved by the gods, I hate him the most."

As Nestor's limp, lifeless body hit the floor two men walked into the Great Cabin and picked up both Nestor's body and head. Carrying both outside they dumped the body over the side of the ship. As it floated away no one looked at the body and no one cared.

**XXXXXXX**

The rain was soaking the companions to their bones. Achilles had pulled out the cloaks that the crew had used as tents. Those cloaks helped to keep them dry, somewhat, but not even Elvish cloaks could keep them dry from the torrential downpour that they were traveling through. Patroclus rode close to Ninniachel, never falling more than two feet behind her. Achilles and Odysseus still traveled in relative silence. A couple of times Odysseus had tried to get Achilles to talk about his dream. However, each time Achilles would either evade the question or not respond at all.

"How long do you expect it will take us to reach Bree?" Patroclus did his best not to shake uncontrollably from the icy rain falling on them.

"We should be there shortly. I would say about ten minutes more." Ninniachel looked at Patroclus. She could see how cold Patroclus was, the garments brought by the men from Greece were not sufficient to keep them warm in the coming fall. Removing her own cloak she placed it over Patroclus' shoulders. "I know it is not much, however you will die of cold if you are not careful."

Patroclus did his best to smile as he grabbed the cloak from her hand. As he wrapped it around himself he could still pick up her scent as the rain washed it from the dripping cloak. Shortly after receiving the cloak Achilles rode up ahead of the group. Stopping at the top of a hill he could see the light from the hanging lantern in front of the town of Bree. He turned his horse around and waved to the trio.

"The town is just ahead. We should make time, I grow weary of trudging through this rain."

"Agreed." Odysseus shouted as he galloped his horse up next to Achilles. "Come! Patroclus, Ninniachel, I think it is time for us to end this arduous journey. We need to rest, and I would not mind a warm bed over cold ground."

Ninniachel nodded. Patroclus did his best to give a wave, but it turned into more of a shaky hand gesture. The two of them kicked their horses and began a steady trot towards Bree.

A couple minutes later the four companions reached Bree. "Well, this is certainly a surprise." Ninniachel spoke up.

"What do you mean?" Achilles gave her a quizzical look.

"I have not been out here in some years, however Bree was a very open and accepting town. Since it was situated between The Shire and Elvish domain it got many travelers from across the land of Middle-Earth. Never have I seen a wall built in front of the main road." Ninniachel pondered the idea for a minute before dropping the topic entirely.

"We still need a place to stay, so, unless you can think of a reason why we should not venture further, this is most likely our best choice." Achilles jumped off his horse and walked up to the door. He hit the door with his fist three times before an answer. The man who opened the hatch was old, older than anyone Achilles had ever seen. What hair he had was almost white. His eyes were in constant slits as though he was straining to see anything.

"'ello? What business do ye 'ave 'ere?" The man's voice as almost as confounding as his appearance. Rather than it being gruff and raspy, as Achilles had come to expect from older men, it was quite high pitched.

Wishing to give away as little information as possible Odysseus jumped off his horse and began to speak in place of Achilles. "Hello sir, we seek to stay at the inn. This rain is dreadful. We are simple travelers who seek shelter for the night."

The old man behind the door gave a raspy grumble as he closed the port hole and opened the main gate. "I don't mean to be rude and all but we have had to up the security. There's been talk of strange folk wander'n about these days."

"It was no trouble, good sir. We understand completely." Ninniachel bowed as she spoke to the man from atop her horse.

The old man bowed back to her, although he did not know why. After closing the gate the old man went to sit back in his small guard post office.

The four companions were walking through the main street when Patroclus spoke up. "Where do you want to stay?" Achilles and Odysseus did not respond. They had never been there before.

"I believe the best place to stay is a place called the Inn of the Prancing Pony. I hear it is quite hospitable." Ninniachel pointed to a sign hanging above a doorway.

"Well, you do know more than any of us about Bree, so the wisest choice would be to follow. After you." Odysseus impelled her forward.

The four companions dismounted and left their horses by the entrance to the Inn of the Prancing Pony. Upon entering the establishment they were greeted by a rather large and friendly bartender, who was clearly the owner of the Inn.

"Greetings Masters and Ladies. Can I get you a room for the night? We have some cozy rooms that have been called acceptable by elves, and that is saying something."

"No thank you sir, we only seek to rest for a few hours before continuing on our way. May we sit by the fire? The men in my company are rather cold and underdressed for the weather." Ninniachel pointed to the three men, but was truly referring to Patroclus.

The barkeep had not noticed it before. However when he did look he noticed that Odysseus, Achilles, and Patroclus were wearing almost nothing. They wore sleeveless bronze armor on their torsos and leather skirts around their waists that went to their knees. On their feet were open toed shoes that gave no protection from the elements, save for the soles covered by a thick strip of soft leather.

"I would say so! Tell me strangers, why do you wear leather skirts?" The barkeep almost laughed when he said that. Odysseus, noticing that Achilles' arm twitched, spoke up.

"It is called a Faustanella and they are designed to protect your legs from hacking attacks by sword. Although yes, they do seem rather impractical for our current location." Odysseus gave the barkeep a big grin, and a light chuckle in an attempt to lessen the tension that was quickly building in Achilles.

"I should say so! Well, it is not my place to judge. If you would like I can set up a table fer'ya over by the fireplace so that you can dry out and warm up. If you would like anything to drink or eat, just come up to the bar and I will get your order fer'ya."

"Thank you. That would be immensely kind." Odysseus thanked the barkeep before pushing Achilles over to the table to sit.

" I should kill him for insulting us in such a way. I am the greatest warrior to ever live and I just let a common man walk all over me." Achilles fumed about what the barkeep had said.

"Do try to remember that here you are not a king. Here you are just as common a man as any other. Your clothes only symbolize that you are a foreigner to these people. Besides, striking a man down for insulting your clothes could be the most foolish thing I have ever heard you say." Odysseus gave him a look of disappointment.

"Agreed, I have come to expect much better from you, cousin. Do you intend to get into combat without any reason for it? That is one of the things that you taught me never to do." Patroclus never looked Achilles in the eye as he spoke, he was too busy trying to get warm with the heat from the fire.

The night went rather uneventfully, the four companions ate and had drinks together but never spoke much. Deciding that it was time to break the silence, Ninniachel pointed to a man on the other side of the bar. "There is a man sitting in the corner of the bar, he is smoking a pipe. I think I might know who he is. I am not absolutely sure, however."

Just then four small men walked into the bar. The barkeep looked over the bar and down at the four men.

"Good evening young masters, might I interest you in some nice cozy Hobbit-sized rooms, Mr. . ." The barkeep paused, waiting for a name to be given.

"Underhill, my name is Underhill." The barkeep nodded and pondered the name thinking that it might not be real but never questioning what he was told.

"We are friends of Gandalf the Grey, can you tell him that we have arrived?"

The barkeep thought about it for a minute. "Gandalf? Gandalf? Oh yes! Older chap, big grey beard, pointy hat. Not seen him for six months."

Frodo turned around to Sam, Merry, and Pippin. "Now what do we do?" Sam asked in a hushed tone.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

Frodo, Sam, and Pippin were sitting at a table on the far side of the bar. Sam was nursing his mug of ale while he nibbled on a piece of cheese and bread. He kept shifting from side to side. Gandalf's absence was disconcerting to Sam; he had always known Gandalf to be punctual. Noticing this, Frodo did his best to alleviate some of Sam's stress.

"Don't worry Sam, he'll be here. . ." Although in his mind even Frodo was beginning to stress about Gandalf's whereabouts.

Merry came back to the table and sat down holding a very large mug of ale.

"What is that?" Pippin's inquiry was more along the lines of want rather than curiosity.

"This, my friend, is a pint." Merry had a broad smile on his face as he tipped the cup towards his mouth.

"It comes in pints? I'm getting one." Pippin shot up from the table and ran to the barkeep, while failing to take notice of the fact that there were four pint mugs sitting in front of the hobbits.

"But we all have already!" Sam shouted to Pippin, who clearly was not listing.

The atmosphere of the Inn was jovial and fervent. Men were all standing around talking about glory they had won on some battle field or another, while others sat and talked with old friends about times they had missed. Only Sam and Frodo were somber during this, their concern for Gandalf outweighing the joyful mead hall.

"That man has done nothing but stare at us all night." Sam pointed to a man sitting alone at a table behind a group of four travelers.

Frodo tugged on the apron of the barkeep as he was walking by the table. "Excuse me, who is that man sitting over there in the corner?"

The barkeep's face went white. "That there is one of them ranger folk. Dangerous men, they are, roaming the wilds. What his real name is I ain't sure but 'round here we just call him Strider."

"Strider," Frodo whispered under his breath. While pondering who this man might be, Frodo spun the little golden ring in between his fingers. While spinning the ring he heard it, the word started as nothing more than a whisper but soon grew. Frodo became entranced and listened to the word as it grew within his mind.

"Baggins… Baggins… Baggins! Baggins!"

"Baggins?" Pippin said aloud. Hearing his name, Frodo snapped out of the trance and looked for the source of the voice.

"Sure I know a Baggins! He's right over there." Pippin pointed to Frodo sitting at the table. "Frodo Baggins! He's my second cousin twice removed on my mother's side."

"Pippin, no!" Frodo shouted as he ran up trying to get Pippin to stop. Running up from behind he grabbed Pippin's shoulder. As Pippin turned around he knocked Frodo off-balance.

"Steady on!" Pippin said as Frodo almost spilled his mug of ale.

As he fell everything began to move in slow motion, tripping over the man's muddy boot, falling flat on his back, and the ring, the little golden ring, that he had forgotten to put in his pocket, was now flying through the air. Reaching out to grab it, he missed, and instead caused the ring to fall onto his finger. As soon as this happened Frodo vanished completely.

Achilles had been almost motionless, watching the whole scene unfold. He was curious about the commotion but was content to just see how everything played out until the Halfling vanished. Upon seeing the Halfling disappear Achilles bolted up from his seat and marched over to where Frodo was. Looking franticly around, he noticed the small movements of objects and people. Assuming it was the Halfling, he followed the movements until they stopped underneath a table. There the Halfling reappeared. Achilles started to walk up to him when the man, who was sitting in the corner, grabbed the Halfling by the shoulder and hauled him off the ground.

"You draw far too much attention to yourself, Mr. Underhill!" The shadowy man shoved the Halfling up a staircase to the next floor.

Achilles started to follow the shadowy man only to be cut off by three more Halflings who were running up the stairs. One was holding a chair, the other a candlestick, the third one holding his fists, clenched as if for a brawl.

Upstairs Strider began to move about the room putting out each of the candles.

"W-who are you?" Frodo asked in a shaky voice.

"Are you frightened?" Strider looked right into Frodo's eyes.

Something about his piercing gaze compelled Frodo to speak the truth. "Yes."

"Not nearly frightened enough. I know what hunts you. I can avoid being seen if I wish, but to disappear entirely…that is a rare gift." Strider pulled his off to reveal his face.

At that moment Sam burst through the door, ready to pummel Strider, who seemed to have kidnapped Frodo. He was followed by Merry holding a chair and Pippin with a still-lit candlestick. "Let 'em go, or I'll 'ave you!"

Out of sheer reflex Strider drew his sword and pointed it towards the new intruder. Noticing it was the other Halflings Strider sheathed his sword and gave a light sigh of relief. "You are brave little one, but bravery alone will not save you."

"Perhaps his bravery is all he needs." Achilles stepped into the doorway, sword drawn at the ready. "I do not know you but I have lived under the thumb of I tyrant long enough to know when people need to be protected. So I think you should listen to this one and do as he says."

The four hobbits and Strider turned to look at the man standing in the doorway. He had bright blond hair and wore clothes that were clearly not from around the area.

"I know not who you are stranger but you draw your sword without knowing the facts. I am no enemy of the Halflings. I am an ally." Strider turned back to Frodo, ignoring Achilles' threats against him. "We can no longer wait for the wizard, Frodo. Get your things together. We are moving."

"Do you expect me to simply step aside and watch you leave?" Achilles still kept his sword pointed at Strider.

"If you do not trust me then come with me. I mean the Halflings no harm but I was told to protect them with everything I can muster. If you would like to help me then by all means." Strider motioned for Achilles to follow him as he lead the four hobbits out of the room. Sheathing his sword Achilles fell in step behind the candlestick-wielding hobbit as they walked out of the room.

As the six men came back down stairs they were greeted by a worried-looking Patroclus, and a calm, but concerned, Odysseus.

"Might I ask where you have been and who these people are?" Odysseus gave Achilles a serious gaze.

"I do not know who they are except for the tall one, his name is apparently Strider." Achilles gestured to the Strider who was now walking up to the barkeep.

Ninniachel walked up to the group of men. "We should go with Strider. I cannot tell you why now, but I am sure that he means us no harm."

Odysseus, always the diplomat, shrugged his shoulders. "If the elf thinks that we should follow this Strider, then I say we go."

Patroclus nodded in agreement. "I am not sure why, but following him does seem like the right thing to do."

"Well if everyone else says we should then let us gather our things. Strider says that he and the little ones are leaving, and if we are to follow him then we should leave as well." Achilles turned to the four hobbits and knelt to be at eye level with them.

"Little one, if you and your kin would have us then may we join you?" Frodo nodded.

"Very well, if you swear that you will protect me and my kin, then I would gladly have you accompany us." Frodo turned around to Sam, Merry, and Pippin. "Would you agree to that idea?"

Merry nodded. "Well, he looks like he could be helpful if we get into any more trouble with those black riders." Merry whispered to the other three hobbits.

"He did try to help us when Strider took you." Sam said in a hushed tone.

"We are in agreement then?" Frodo looked at his three friends who nodded in agreement.

Turning back around Frodo looked at Achilles. "Thank you, stranger. We would gladly have help from you and your kin on our journey. My name is Frodo Baggins; these are my friends, Samwise Gamgee, Meriadoc Brandybuck, and Peregrine Took." Each one of the three hobbits nodded to Achilles as they were introduced.

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. My name is Achilles, lord of the Myrmidons. This is my close friend Odysseus, King of Ithaca, my cousin Patroclus, and our guide, Ninniachel." All four of them bowed to the hobbits.

Strider returned to the group of eight. "Do you have everything together? We need to leave now."

Sam pulled his pack over his shoulder. "Yes, we have everything," Frodo answered for all four of them. Strider turned to face Achilles and those traveling with him.

"Yes, we came with naught but what you see before you."Achilles still did not fully trust Strider but he was comfortable enough to follow him.

"Very well then, let us make haste. The enemy moves upon us as we speak." Strider turned around and headed for the door.

Rather than leaving the city, Strider simply moved them over to an inn across the street.

"You said we had to leave," Achilles scowled at Strider.

"You're right we did need to leave. However, we cannot leave the city. It is still unsafe. We have to wait until the enemy arrives." Strider walked up to the innkeeper and ordered a human-sized room for all nine of the companions. The innkeeper was rather perplexed as to why one human-sized room was ordered for four Halflings, an elf and four humans. However she did not pry.

They had been sitting in the room for hours. Sam, Merry, and Pippin had fallen asleep in the bed whilst Frodo stayed awake sitting on the edge. He knew that something evil was coming, but what he could not say. Achilles was sitting on the window sill with Strider, never taking his eyes off of him for more than a minute to check outside. Odysseus was sitting in one of the two chairs; Patroclus had fallen asleep in the other. Ninniachel remained completely silent as she stood by the fireplace, waiting for the enemy to show itself.

It was late, very late. Later than the gate keeper wanted to be up. He heard a horse whinny outside of the gate. Getting up to go check he opened the top porthole. The last thing he saw was a hoof slamming on the wooden wall that crushed him as it fell over at the force of the stampeding hooves. Four riders in black bolted into the city atop horses with glowing red eyes and bleeding hooves.

Achilles got up from the windowsill and silently walked over to Odysseus. "They are here, if you would like to see them."

Getting up from the chair Odysseus walked over to the window to look out at the four black riders who had shown up. After looking at them, Odysseus suddenly had a flashback to the dream he had while he was chained to the wall of Ost-Morsereg. "They look just like he did," Odysseus whispered to himself.

"What?" Achilles looked at Odysseus wondering what he had just meant.

"Nothing, I just remembered something." Odysseus returned to his chair and closed his eyes.

The four riders in black moved as silently as wisps through the bar hall of the Prancing Pony, swords drawn. They scoured each room until they found the one they were looking for. With the stealth of snakes they slithered into the room and stood at the end of each of the four beds. They then proceeded to turn their swords downward and raise them over their heads. Suddenly, with swift and sharp movements, they began to stab each one of the lumps in the beds repeatedly.

The next thing Patroclus knew, he was awakened by an inhuman scream that caused his whole body to shiver.

Everyone was awake now, each one of them startled by the inhuman scream that erupted from the room across the way.

"What are they?" Frodo asked Strider in hopes of a clear answer.

"They were once men, great kings of men. Then Sauron the Deceiver gave to them nine rings of power. Blinded by their greed they took the rings without question, one by one falling into madness. Now they are servants of the Dark Lord. They are his eyes and ears in search of the ring. They can always feel its presence. They are always looking for it; they are slaves to its power. They are then Nine, Nazgul, Ring Wraiths." The rest of the night was quiet and everyone, save Ninniachel and Strider, fell into a restless sleep.

"I am glad to see you again, Ninniachel, yet I am concerned. Weren't you supposed to leave on a ship bound for the west almost a week ago?" Strider queried.

"You're right, I was. However I was captured by a group of orcs from a place called Ost-Morsereg. There I was imprisoned for three days before I escaped. After two hours of running I found my way to that man right there." Ninniachel pointed at Patroclus, then, as though she was just a young girl, her face reddened. "We have known each other for a few weeks and I find myself enamored with his presence. He even permeates my dreams. I am sure that I love him."

"You? In love with a mortal man? That seems rather unlike you. I was sure that you once said that love was the last thing you would ever do." Strider gave her a half smile at the idea that Ninniachel would fall in love.

"You know better than most that things change, Strider." Ninniachel emphasized his name, pointing out they both knew 'Strider' was not his real name.

Strider chuckled. "Yes, I suppose you're right. Well, do you care to sleep before we go or should I just wake them in a couple of hours?"

"Wake them; I think that even the Hobbits know that we must be moving soon." Ninniachel nodded as she turned to look out the window towards the rising sun.

The following morning the nine companions mounted their horses and left Bree in the early morning. Strider had given the explanation that under the light of the sun it would be safer to travel. They had been riding for three hours at least when Sam finally spoke to Frodo in a hushed tone.

"How do we know we can trust him?"

"I believe that an agent of the enemy would look kinder but feel fouler." Frodo was riding on the horse with Achilles next to Patroclus, who was riding with Pippin, Odysseus who was riding with Sam, and Ninniachel who was riding with Merry.

"He smells rather foul to me as it is," Sam whispered back to Frodo.

"Where do you think he is taking us?" Pippin whispered.

"To Rivendell, the home of the elves." Strider spoke up loud enough for everyone to hear.

All four of the Hobbit's eyes went wide when they discovered that he could hear everything they had whispered to each other.

"Ah, that is good. Our company has been seeking to get to Rivendell for some time." Odysseus spoke up. "Perhaps you can give us some aide. Who is E?"

"E?" Strider turned around and gave Odysseus a perplexed look.

"Yes, Achilles," Odysseus pointed to Achilles riding with Frodo. "was given a missive by a messenger who was paid handsomely; enough, in fact, to buy his own land with farmhands. However I am getting off the subject. The letter was written in a language that Achilles can read and it said to meet him in Rivendell. The only thing was that a name was never given, only the letter E."

Strider turned back around. "No, I cannot say that I know who this E person is. However, if they requested you meet them in Rivendell then I am sure that they will be there waiting for you once you arrive."

Another seven hours went by in silence. They were riding through a patch of snow-covered ground when the contingent stopped. After a minute of listening Strider could hear nothing. Turning to see what the problem was he noticed that all four hobbits had gotten off of the horses.

"Gentlemen, what are you doing?" Strider was confounded by their halting.

"We're stopping for breakfast," Pippin answered as a matter-of-factly.

"You have already had it." Strider was even more confounded than before.

"Yes, we have had one breakfast, but what about second breakfast?" Pippin was curious about why he was asking about second breakfast. Hadn't Strider heard of them?

Strider shook his head and turned around. Continuing to ride on his horse he disappeared behind a grouping of trees.

"I don't think he knows about second breakfasts, Pip." Merry laid his hand on Pippin's shoulder and began to walk back towards Ninniachel to mount the horse again.

"Well what about Elevenzies, Lunchin, Afternoon Tea, Dinner, Supper, he knows about those, right?" Pippin was frantic, to think that he might not get to eat at all the proper times in the day! It was quite disconcerting.

"I wouldn't count on it, Pip." No sooner had Merry spoken than had an apple came flying over a tree. Merry caught it just barely and handed it to Pippin. Then he patted him on the shoulder and got back on the horse. Shortly after a second apple came flying over the tree and hit Pippin square in the head.

The party continued to ride until they came to a ruined tower atop a stone mesa.

"This used to be the great watch tower of Amon Sul," Strider mumbled to himself. "We will rest here for the night," he yelled to the entire group.

A couple hours later the four Hobbits, along with Achilles, Odysseus, Patroclus, and Ninniachel had set up a campsite on an outcropping ledge just under the once-mighty watchtower. Once the tents were set up, Strider came over to the four Hobbits.

"These are for you." Strider unfolded a piece of cloth that contained four short swords. He handed one to each of the four unarmed Hobbits.

"Use them well. I am going to take a look around." Strider turned around to leave.

"I will join you; it has been too long since I have seen this place." Ninniachel followed Strider as he left.

"I desire to find a good lookout point, please excuse me." Odysseus walked away to find a higher point of ground.

"I would stay as well. However, I do not trust Ninniachel alone with that Strider. I will go with them." Patroclus left to follow after Strider and Ninniachel.

Just like that the four Hobbits were left alone with Achilles. "Do not worry, little ones, I promised that I would protect you, and I will not leave you alone."

The hours passed by slowly and soon Achilles and Frodo fell asleep. While sleeping, Sam, Merry, and Pippin gathered some wood and started a fire.

Frodo awoke to the sound of hushed voices coming from behind him. Sam, Merry, and Pippin were sitting around the fire they had made, with a skillet, and roasting food.

"What are you doing!?" Frodo shrieked

"Tomatoes and some nice crispy bacon." Merry was almost salivating.

"We saved some for you, Mr. Frodo." Sam held out a plate to Frodo.

"Put it out you fools, put it out!" Frodo screamed.

"Oh that's nice," Pippin said in a sarcastic tone as Frodo stamped out the fire.

The silence of the fog-filled night was cut with a blood-curdling scream. With that the four hobbits looked over the edge of the cliff and saw five Ring Wraiths heading straight for the rocky outcropping.

Achilles' eyes shot open when he heard the scream. Looking out over the edge he saw five shadowy figures heading towards them.

"Nazgul, quickly, little ones, up the stairs!" Achilles ushered the four Hobbits to a more open location, one where they could easily defend against attackers. In the main tower Achilles walked up behind Odysseus.

"Did you see them?" Achilles asked quickly.

"Yes, only five of them though. I would expect this to be an easy fight." Odysseus turned around to face Achilles. "We need to choose the most defensible location up here. From my vantage point I can strike at anyone coming up from the south, east, and west side. However the north side will be at my back so I will need you to guard it for me."

Achilles gave Odysseus a cocky smile. "Easy enough. Get set up."

Achilles moved to the north side of the tower, while Odysseus set up near the four Hobbits. All six of the companions looked around. Their eyes flicked from opening to opening. The gothic statues of kings glared at them from every direction.

Frodo's heart pounded in his chest. He was not sure if it was anxiety due to the upcoming fight, or if it was fear welling up inside of him. One thing was sure to him, no matter what happened he had to keep the ring safe. He had to keep it away from anything that might seek to take it.

"South side!" Odysseus bellowed as he saw one of the five Nazgul walking through a marble archway. Odysseus pulled back on the bowstring and let loose an arrow. The arrow flew straight and true and struck its target in the area of where the right eye should have been. However, instead of stopping it went right through and out the back of the hood.

"Achilles! They act as though they are smoke and fog!" Odysseus was about to launch another arrow when another Nazgul came up to his right side and slashed him across the arm. The cut hurt more that Odysseus had anticipated, rather than a sharp cut like he was used to when being hit by a sword, the wound burned. Not only did it burn but it began to fester with black ooze.

"Gahh!" Odysseus shouted as loud as his lungs would allow. He watched as the wound grew black as the poison began to travel throughout his veins.

"Odysseus!" Achilles howled as he watch Odysseus fall to his knees in pain. Achilles ran over to the Nazgul that had struck him and brought his sword down upon the wraith's head. To his surprise, the Nazgul was stronger than he anticipated. It parried his attack with relative ease and, as a parting gift; the Nazgul threw Achilles across the tower. As he slid on the wet ground, Achilles hit his head on a piece of fallen marble, causing him to loose consciousness.

The five Nazgul proceeded to surround the four Hobbits. Having removed the only true defiance to them they began to move towards the one carrying the ring.

Sam was a brave Hobbit. He was given the task of defending Frodo as best he could and he would not fail the Wizard's charge.

"Back, you devil!" Sam shouted at the nightmarish shade. He swung his sword haphazardly in an attempt to strike his opponent down, only to be parried with each shot. With his third strike the Nazgul parried Sam and pushed him to the side like he was nothing more than a minor nuisance. Merry and Pippin were not nearly as brave as Sam was but they also knew what had to be done in order to keep the world safe. Seeking a way to keep Frodo safe, they stepped next to each other so that their shoulders were pressed together. Their attempt to keep Frodo from harm failed as the Nazgul simply swept them away like leaves on the wind.

Frodo began to panic. He dropped his sword and stumbled backwards, tripping over a small rock. While on the ground he could hear the whispers in his mind again. He looked at his front pocket and noticed that the ring was speaking, it was crying out to be returned once again to the hand of its master. Pulling out the golden ring he held it up, even in the pale moonlight it was glowing like the embers of a dying fire.

One of the Nazgul, who was previously preoccupied by the sight of Achilles now turned to face Frodo and the ring that he held in his hands. The Nazgul drew its sword and marched right over to Frodo. In a panic Frodo saw his only chance for escape and slipped the ring onto his finger.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

The grey haze engulfed Frodo once more. However, rather than the shadows that were usually seen, there standing in front of him were five aged men who appeared as phantoms. Each one of the five men wore ornate crowns atop their heads, signifying their status as men above men. Their faces contorted into images of constant suffering and remorse over their cursed fate.

The Nazgul who marched towards Frodo stopped mid-stride and just stared at Frodo. Then, with his phantom hand, he reached out for the ring now on the Hobbit's finger.

In his mind he could feel it, the ring pulling its self towards the outstretched hand of the Ring Wraith. He was doing his best to fight it, but the ring's will was much stronger than he had anticipated. The ring inched ever closer to the phantom hand. He could feel the air grow cold as the little golden circle dragged Frodo's hand towards the dark entity. Fearing the worst, Frodo, in a fit of panic, gave one final burst of strength and yanked the ring back towards his body and away from the evil creature.

The Ring Wraith was taken aback by this sudden burst of will from the small creature. In its dark and twisted mind the Nazgul understood that, if given the chance, that small being could become even more powerful than his master, and he could not have that.

With a swift and sudden thrust, the Nazgul plunged its sword deep into Frodo's shoulder. The pain of the sword wound was unlike any suffering Frodo had ever experienced - the searing burn that came with its stab, combined with a bitter chill that felt as though nothing in the world would keep you warm. Frodo reached for the ring and pulled it off his finger.

"Gahhhhh!" Frodo roared in pain.

"Frodo!" Sam bellowed, feeling as though all was lost to these demonic beings.

Hearing this cry Achilles awoke from his forced sleep. As his eyes slid open he heard two more cries, not of pain but rather of the all-too familiar, war. From his downed position all he could see was a blurry image of a man holding a torch fighting off the shadowy phantoms, shortly after he was joined by another image of a younger looking man and a woman also aiding in the fight. As his mind began to comprehend what was happening he discovered that the three people fighting the Ring Wraiths were none other than Strider, Patroclus, and Ninniachel.

"Achilles, can you hear me!?" Patroclus shouted at Achilles. To Achilles it sounded as though he was listing to a conversation in the ocean, however that soon began to fade and Achilles slowly got to his feet.

"I am fine cousin; these damned things will not kill me." Just as he finished getting up the last of the Nazgul fled the ruined tower engulfed in flames.

"Odysseus!" Patroclus ran up to the wounded king of Ithaca.

Through gritted teeth Odysseus did his best to send Patroclus away. "I am fine, it is only a scratch. Check on the little one. His wound is deeper."

Strider went over to Frodo and knelt down. While inspecting the wound he noticed the sword lying on the ground next to the Hobbit. "He has been stabbed with a Morgul blade. This is beyond my care to heal. Ninniachel can you heal him?"

Ninniachel walked over to the violently shaking Halfling. "I cannot, I may be able to slow down the poison but I am no healer. My kin in Rivendell are much more proficient than I at such a task."

"Very well, then we must make haste to Rivendell. I will get the horses, you will ride with Odysseus, and I shall ride with Frodo." Turning to face Achilles, Strider gave him a deathly serious gaze. "Achilles, King of the Myrmidons, can you ride in your condition?"

Achilles gave Strider a puzzled look. "Of course I can. I am fine." Achilles turned to face Patroclus who still looked at him with concern. "I am fine, cousin. You worry too much. How is Odysseus?"

Strider said nothing, he just turned around and walked over to the Ithacan king and helped him up. "He will be riding with me to Rivendell along with Ninniachel and Frodo. The two of them need elvish medicine in order to survive. The blades they were inured with contained a powerful poison that, if not treated quickly, will turn them into Shades of Saruon."

Achilles just stared at Strider as he walked away with his friend and the Halfling. Turning around he looked at Sam, Merry, and Pippin. "Well? What are you waiting for? If we are to keep up with them we must leave immediately. Go and pack your things, we are leaving within the hour." As two of the horses whinnied, Achilles walked over to the edge of the tower and watched both Strider and Ninniachel ride away.

"Cousin, how are we to find Rivendell now? They were the only ones who knew the way." Patroclus did not enjoy the idea of letting Ninniachel leave with Strider.

"Do not worry, cousin. I am sure that an envoy from Rivendell will come to guide us the rest of the way. Besides, Ninniachel cares too much for you to cause you any pain." Achilles winked at Patroclus.

Patroclus, discovering that his cousin knew about his love for Ninniachel, felt his face become warm as he turned a bright shade of red. "H-how long have you known?"

"Don't take me for a fool, Patroclus. I have lived with you since you were eight; I know you as well as I know myself." Achilles turned back around and went with the Hobbits down the stairs to where the horses were tied up.

It had been a day since Strider and Ninniachel had started riding. The two of them rode as fast as they could until they came to a small stream. Sitting on a horse on the other side of the stream was a beautiful elfin woman. Dismounting from the horse, Strider walked up to the woman.

"Please, you must take this man and the hobbit to Rivendell with Ninniachel. The two of you are faster riders than I could ever hope to be." Strider smiled at the elf woman.

"But what of you? I have located six of the nine; they seek the four of you as we speak. I fear for your safety, for I know not where the other three are." Her eyes met with Strider's.

"I will be safe; it is not me whom they seek, but the ring-bearer. Take Frodo. Ninniachel will follow with Odysseus. The two of you must reach Rivendell soon, lest they both be lost to the shadows." Strider looked right at the elf woman; his gaze reverting to its usual serious visage.

"Arwen, ride hard, and do not look back."

"All right. May the Valar watch over you on your journey back to the others, my love." Arwen placed Frodo in front of her and galloped away, followed closely by Ninniachel.

After an hour of riding Ninniachel began to notice shadows in the forest. "Do you see them?"

Arwen nodded. "I do. let us hurry. Noro lim, Asfaloth!" She whispered in the horse's ear.

"Noro lim, Haldamir!" Ninniachel hummed to the horse. With those words both horses began running as fast as their powerful legs could carry them.

Just as the two women came to a clearing, all nine Ring Wraiths came charging out of the forest pressing closely behind. The Nazgul screeched at the two elfin women with their twisted form of the common tongue. "Give us the Halfling! Hand over our kin!"

One of the Nazgul rode up next to Arwen and tried to pull Frodo from atop the horse.

"No!" Arwen cried as she pulled on the horse's reins, getting him to make a sharp movement to the side, putting both the horse and the Halfling just out of the Nazgul's reach.

The world moved about Frodo in agonizingly slow motions. However despite this slowing of events things seemed to move faster. At one moment Frodo noticed that he was sitting on a horse with Strider, and in the next he was galloping through a stretch of open ground being chased by nine noble kings. The world began to fade again, and time seemed to speed up drastically until he felt the light drips of water on his face. The world came back into view. Frodo could see the river Bruinen flowing steadily towards its final destination.

"Go Ninniachel! Take both of them to Rivendell!" Arwen picked Frodo up with one hand and handed him over to Ninniachel who turned around to gallop away.

The Witch King screeched at Arwen. "Give us the Half-ling she-elf!"

Arwen drew her sword in preparation for the battle to come. "If you want him, come and get him!"

All nine of the Ring Wraiths drew their swords. Letting out a blood-curdling scream the phantoms charged forward.

Understanding her situation, Arwen began to chant in Elvish. "Non o Chithaeglir, lasto Beth daer: Rimmo nin Briunen Dan in Ulaer! Non o Chithaeglir, lasto Beth daer: Rimmo nin Briunen Dan in Ulaer!" As she chanted the river slowly begin to rise. In the distance the sounds of water rushing downhill grew ever louder. Then, from behind a mountain bend, a torrent of flood water came rushing down from farther up the small river. The wall of water appeared looked like a stampeding herd of white horses. Despite their existence as shades the Ring Wraiths could still feel fear. As the flood waters washed over them their inhuman screams could be heard fading under the deluge.

Arwen sheathed her sword, turned back, and rode off towards Rivendell.

Frodo was surrounded by a bright light. The light seemed to chase away all shadows that dwelled within his mind. As he slowly stirred, he mumbled under his breath. He was not sure what he had said but to his surprise he got an answer.

"You are in the house of Elrond. It is ten o'clock in the morning on the twenty-fourth of October, if you must know."

Opening his eyes Frodo looked at the source of the voice. "Gandalf?"

Gandalf, who was sitting in a hand-carved wooden chair, smiled at Frodo. "Yes, I am here. You're lucky to be here too. A few more hours and we would have lost both you and Odysseus to the shadows."

Frodo was about to jump out of the bed he was lying in to hug his old friend, but something else came to his mind. "Gandalf, what happened? Why did you not meet us at the Inn?"

Gandalf had a troubled look on his face as he watched Frodo. "I am sorry, I was delayed."

"Gandalf? Is everything alright?" Frodo gave Gandalf a concerned look.

"I'm fine Frodo, everything is just fine." At that same moment Sam came into the room.

"Oh Mr. Frodo, bless you you're awake!" Sam came up to Frodo and sat on the bed next to him.

"Sam!" Frodo laughed, overjoyed to know that his friends were safe. "Tell me, where are Achilles and Patroclus? How is Odysseus doing? What of Merry and Pippen? Is Ninniachel safe?"

"Slow down." Gandalf was laughing at Frodo's sudden outburst of questions. "With the help of Lord Elrond you are beginning to mend." Elrond came into the room and stood behind Gandalf.

A couple of hours later Frodo was up walking around. The beauty of Rivendell was far greater than he could have ever imagined. The stonework was so natural that it appeared to grow from the earth. Each and every column, every trellis was covered with ivies of all sorts. From hanging pottery grew plants that shined like silver in the growing sunlight. While Frodo was out experiencing the sights, he was ambushed and tackled to the ground by two Hobbits.

"Merry? Pippin? It's so good to see your safe!" Frodo embraced the two of them.

Merry returned the embrace. "We are glad to see you up and about as well. However, there is someone here who would like to see you even more than we do." Merry pointed behind both him and Pippin. There sitting on the bench was a much older-looking Bilbo.

"Uncle!" Frodo said ecstatically. Frodo ran over to his uncle and hugged him. He could not remember the last time he had seen his beloved uncle.

"Hello, Frodo, my lad. It is so good to see you again." Bilbo returned the hug. Frodo went with his uncle to the room that he was staying in. While sitting on the bed, Frodo was flipping through his uncle's book.

"I meant to go back...wander the paths of Mirkwood, visit Laketown, see the Lonely Mountain again...but age, it seems, has finally caught up with me." Bilbo went and sat down next to Frodo.

"There and Back Again: A Hobbit's Tale by Bilbo Baggins. I am glad you finished it, uncle. When I was young I always imagined that I was off with you on one of your adventures. My own adventure turned out to be quite different." Frodo looked at the red leather-bound book reminiscing about his past.

"Rarely do we travel the same path as another. You can never know where you might be swept off to." Bilbo rested his head on Frodo shoulder.

After Bilbo went to take a nap, Frodo went out and began to explore Rivendell some more. While exploring Frodo came upon Sam, who was hurriedly packing his bag, trying to stuff as much as he could into the small pack.

"Oh? packing already?" Frodo jested at Sam. "I thought you wanted to see the Elves."

"I do." Sam said as though he was trying to verify what Frodo said.

"More than anything in the world." Frodo continued to quip Sam.

"I did… but Mr. Frodo, we did what Gandalf asked, we got the ring to Rivendell. Seeing as to how you're on the mend I figured that we would be on our way home." Sam was a little saddened by this, albeit he was also relieved to know that the whole issue would soon be over with.

"You're right, Sam. The ring will be safe in Rivendell. I am ready to go home." Frodo smiled at Sam.

Unbeknownst to the two Halflings they were being watched intently by Lord Elrond and Gandalf. "He will carry that scar for the rest of his life."

Elrond looked at Gandalf. "Yet, despite his wounds, he has shown a surprising resistance to the Ring's influence."

Gandalf looked stunned by Lord Elrond's statement. "No, Frodo has done enough. We cannot ask more of him."

"Gandalf, the enemy is moving. Sauron's forces are massing in the east. His eye is fixed on Rivendell. And Saruman, you tell me, has betrayed us. Our list of allies grows thin."

"His treachery runs deeper than you know. By foul craft, Saruman has crossed Orc with Goblin Men...he is breeding an army in the caverns of Isengard, an army that can move in Sunlight and cover great distance at speed. Saruman is coming for the Ring."

"The ring cannot stay in Rivendell. Gandalf, the Elves alone cannot hold back this tide."

"There are others, Elrond. Frodo does not have to bear this burden."

"What others Gandalf? Dwarves? They care nothing for the outside world; they only wish to stay in their mines seeking riches."

"Men, it is in men that we must lay our hopes."

"Men? Bah, the wills of men are weak. I was there, Gandalf. I was there three thousand years ago. It should have ended the day we defeated Sauron but, evil was allowed to endure. It is because of men that we are dealing with this today. No, this is a fate that belongs to all of Middle Earth. They must choose how to end it."

Hearing noises outside Gandalf walked over to the window and watched Men, Elves, and Dwarves arriving through the main gate.

"There is no strength left in the world of men. They are divided, leaderless."

"There is one who could unite them."

"He turned from that path a long time ago. Now he chooses exile."

Strider sat in the shadows reading a book by the light of the sliver moon, when a man came strolling through the halls. The way he carried himself gave off the sense that he was a man among men. His ego reminded Strider of Achilles, in a way. While meandering about, the man stopped at a fresco of Isildur holding up the broken blade of Narsil.

"So this is it." The man walked up to the pedestal holding the fragmented pieces of Narsil.

"The blade that cut the ring from Sauron's hand." The man gently caressed the finely forged piece of Dwarven craftsmanship. While running his finger up the blade a small cut appeared on the man's finger. The man jumped slightly.

"Still sharp." Turning around he noticed Strider staring at him from the shadows. "It is just a broken heirloom." The man haphazardly set the sword down on the edge of the pedestal. As he walked away the sword piece fell off the silk covered plinth and clattered on the ground. The man stopped suddenly, as though hearing the sound of the sword strike cold earth sent a pang of remorse through his heart. However his pride would not let him return to fix what he had done and instead just kept walking away.

Strider closed his book and set it down. He walked over to the sword and picked it up. As though the blade was made for his hand it seemed to vibrate with his every breath. It felt like he and the sword were bound by blood. Just as quickly as he had picked it up Strider set the blade down again in its original position.

As if sensing his anguish Arwen walked in. Her silent footsteps cut only by the soft rustle of her dress as she moved. "Why do you fear the past? You are Isildur's heir not Isildur himself. His fate is not your own."

Strider refused to look at her, as though if he would look upon her beautiful face that he would break down into tears of rage. "The same blood flows through my veins, the same… weakness!"

Arwen wrapped her arms around him from behind and laid her head on his back. "Your time will come. You will face the same evil, and you will defeat it."

"Will I? I have had doubts about myself ever since I discovered my heritage." Strider placed his hand on hers.

"Perhaps you need to remember who you are." Arwen reached up and kissed him on the cheek. She then turned around and took him by the hand urging him to follow. Following Arwen he discovered that she was leading him to a place he had seen many times before. In her bed chamber the two of them embraced each other. The rest of the night was spent in each other's arms, enjoying the shared warmth against the cool night air.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

As the light crested over the foothills of Hithaeglir, Strider stood on the balcony letting the sun's first rays warm his face. Turning around he walked back to where Arwen was, still sleeping in the bed. He lightly kissed her on the cheek and began to walk away. Just as he was about to leave the room he heard Arwen speak.

"Where do you go so early this morning?" Arwen held up the thin sheet in front of her, the jewel of the Evenstar hung low on her breast. Her eyes appeared to glow in the sun's light.

"Your father has called a council to decide the fate of the ring." Strider walked back over to Arwen and placed a kiss upon her forehead.

"Then please, take this." Arwen removed the necklace and placed it in Strider's hand.

Strider looked at the gift. He knew what it meant to claim such a treasured jewel of Elven kind. "I cannot accept this, to be granted such a gift is far too great." Strider attempted to hand it back to Arwen. However Arwen stopped him and instead closed his hand around the jewel.

"It is mine to give to whomever I choose, just like my heart." Arwen kissed him once more on the lips. Strider smiled at her and turned to leave.

Upon arriving at the council chamber he was surprised to see not only Gandalf and Frodo but also Achilles, and Odysseus sitting in the council circle. At the head of the council sat three elven lords. Elrond was seated in the middle of the three.

Strider bowed to Lord Elrond. "Lord Elrond, I take it you have met with Achilles, lord of the Myrmidons, and Odysseus, king of Ithaca."

"I have. We have had an extensive conversation about Achilles' late father Peleus." Elrond turned to face Achilles. "Again, you have my sincerest apologies about your father, I was not aware that he had passed on."

Achilles waved his hand to dismiss the issue. "It is fine. It happened when I was only sixteen. I have long since gotten over the sorrow of loss."

Odysseus spoke up, "Pardon my intrusion but I was curious, a letter arrived for king Peleus requesting that he bring the ring that you gave him. Am I to believe that the ring in question was once one of the nine rings?"

Elrond was taken aback by Odysseus' speed on which he picked up on issues. "Yes, in fact it is. Tell me, Lord Achilles, have you brought the ring?"

"I did. However, it is not I who carries them but my friend Odysseus. He carries both my ring and his own." Achilles made a jester to the leather pouch tied around Odysseus' wrist.

Odysseus looked down at the little pouch on his wrist. "Yes, from what I am aware the nine rings came from the north many years ago. We never knew who made them, but each king was given one ring to be the heirloom of their kingdom. In our own Greek history the nine kings maintained balance in the Greek world with each of the nine rings. However twenty years ago a rebel king arose and shook the balance. His name is Agamemnon."

At hearing Agamemnon's name Achilles tensed up for a moment. He remembered when Agamemnon came to his father's kingdom claiming that it belonged to him and that King Peleus had best swear loyalty to him lest he wished to be destroyed by the numberless army of Agamemnon, King of Kings.

"Agamemnon desired to have all nine rings for himself. Most of the kings had no issue with this desire, except for king Priam, the only one of the nine kings to be given a ring who did not truly live in Greece. King Priam tempted the might of Agamemnon, for that I am sure both he and his city were burned."

Odysseus pulled the pouch off of his wrist, walked up to Lord Elrond and handed it to him. "I do believe that you personally requested the ring that you had given to king Peleus. I assumed that if you wanted one of the rings, handing another over to you would be of little consequence."

Elrond did not open the pouch, but instead handed it one of the Elven nobles who placed it upon the ground next to Elrond. Odysseus was about to speak again when the men, who had been summoned for the council, began to enter the secret meeting terrace.

Once everyone was seated, Lord Elrond addressed the council. "Strangers from distant lands, friends of old. You have been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor. Middle-earth stands upon the brink of destruction. None can escape it. You will unite, or you will fall. Each race is bound to this fate, this one doom. Bring fourth the ring, Frodo."

Frodo fidgeted slightly. He could feel everyone in the council surveying him, as though they were piercing into the very fiber of his being. As he stood, everyone in the council watched his every move intently. Not a single person on that council believed what they were told, and yet, deep within their own minds, each of them knew that it was true. As Frodo placed the ring on the pedestal slight gasps and exhales were heard. Many whispered among themselves.

"So it is true," the man that Strider had seen the night before spoke up.

"In a dream, I saw the eastern sky grow dark. In the west a pale light still lingered and a voice cried out 'Your doom is near at hand, Isildur's bane is found. Isildur's bane." The man stood up and inched ever closer to the ring. Elrond knew that if the ring fell into the hands of men again then evil would not only endure but also triumph.

"Boromir!" Elrond shouted.

Just as Elrond said his name Gandalf began to speak. "Ash nazg durbatulûk, ash nazg gimbatul, ash nazg thrakatulûk, agh burzum-ishi krimpatul." As he spoke the council chamber grew dark. While Gandalf spoke, Frodo's eyes were fixated on the ring, in his mind he could hear the phantom voice speaking to him. Its words echoed with that of Gandalf's.

Elrond looks at Gandalf, horrified and enraged. "Never before has that tongue been spoken here in Imladris."

Gandalf took his seat and looked at Elrond with the eyes of a man who has seen too much in his life. "I do not ask your pardon, Lord Elrond, for the Black Speech of Mordor may yet be heard throughout all the west."

Boromir stood up again and spoke, as though hearing the Black Speech did not phase him. "It is a gift, a gift to the foes of Mordor! Why not use this Ring? Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor, held the forces of Mordor at bay. By the blood of our people are your lands kept safe. Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy. Let us use it against him!"

"You cannot wield it, none of us can. The ring answers only to Sauron, it has no other master." Strider kept his cool, even when the noble son looked at him like nothing more than a common peasant.

"And what would a Ranger know of this matter?" The noble son almost spat out the word Ranger, making sure that Strider understood that a Ranger was less man than he was beast.

Legolas could take no more of this, he knew of Strider's heritage and it was about time that this son-of-a-steward know this. "This is no mere Ranger. He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance."

Aragorn, not wishing a fight to break out, calmed Legolas down. "Havo dad, Legolas."

Hearing the name, Achilles, who had been lost in thought ever since Gandalf spoke the words on the ring, looked over at the man whom he had known as Strider. To discover that he was, in fact, one of the legendary Númenóreans was a dream come true for the Myrmidon king. Never in his life did he ever expect to meet one of the famous men who fought in the legendary first war.

"Aragorn?" Boromir paused for a moment to let the name sink in. "You're telling me that this man is the heir to the throne of Númenór? Gondor has no king." Boromir turned away to sit back down in his chair.

"Gondor needs no king," Boromir spoke under his breath.

Gandalf spoke up this time. As he spoke, the entire room went silent. Not a soul there would dare speak against a wizard. "Aragorn is right. We cannot use it."

Elrond understood that the tensions were rising in the room and he desired to end this as quickly as possible. "There is only one option, the ring must be destroyed."

One of the dwarves stood up and pulled out his axe. "Well what are we waiting for!" The dwarf quickly swung his axe down upon the ring. As the axe made contact with the ring an image of a great eye wreathed in flame appeared in Frodo's mind. The dwarves axe was shattered as it struck the ring; the dwarf himself was send flying backwards. Everyone in the council, including Odysseus and Achilles, stared at the ring. Not a dent or scratch appeared on the little golden circle. As the dwarf stood up, Elrond spoke out once more.

"The Ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli, son of Gloin, by any craft that we here possess. The Ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom. Only there can it be unmade. It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came." Elrond looked about the room. "One of you must do this."

Boromir placed his hand upon his forehead at the frustration of everything that had occurred. "One does not simply walk into Mordor. Its black gates are guarded by more than just orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep and the great eye is ever-watchful. 'Tis a barren wasteland, riddled with fire and ash and dust. The very air you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with ten thousand men could you do this. It is folly."

Legolas, the ever-proud elf, jumped to his feet. "Have you heard nothing of what Lord Elrond has said? the Ring must be destroyed!"

Gimli stood up once more. "And I suppose you think you're the one to do it!"

Boromir shouted above the two of them. "And what if we fail? What then? What will happen when Sauron takes back what is his?"

The argument quickly exploded, encompassing everyone save for Aragorn, Elrond, Odysseus, and Frodo. Even Achilles, who had been silent this entire time shouted amongst the other men.

"You are all children! How dare you desecrate a council chamber with arguments and bickering?" Achilles turned to Gandalf, who had placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Do you not understand? For each moment we waste here Sauron's power grows! None can escape it! You will all be destroyed!" However, not even Gandalf's voice could overcome the din of noise that now came from the mass of men, elves, and dwarves.

While the men argued, Frodo could hear the ring. It whispered in his mind. It continued to whisper the same four sentences again and again. _Ash nazg durbatulûk, ash nazg gimbatul,__ash nazg thrakatulûk agh burzum-ishi krimpatul_. Somehow he knew that the ring was the thing causing everything, it was what turned a civil council in to a brawl of words. It was what caused the distrust of men and elves and dwarves to come exploding to the surface. Somewhere deep in his mind Frodo knew how best to quell the issue. Rising from his chair Frodo walked up to the pedestal and spoke up.

"I will take it!" He shouted, although he was not sure anyone heard him, until he saw Gandalf, and eventually the rest of the council turn to face him.

"I will take the ring to Mordor…" Frodo paused for a moment, suddenly frightened at all the eyes watching him. "Though I do not know the way."

Gandalf walked up to Frodo and looked mournfully at him. "I will share this burden with you, Frodo Baggins, so long as it is yours to carry." Gandalf went to stand behind Frodo as though he was a pillar for him to lean upon.

Aragorn stood up "If by my life or death I can protect you, I will." He walked over and knelt in front of Frodo. "You have my sword." He then took his place next to Gandalf.

"And you have my bow." Legolas walked over to where the trio were standing and stood beside Aragorn.

"And my Axe!" Gimli gave the four men a big grin and went to stand next to Legolas, begrudgingly so.

Boromir, who had remained on the sidelines watching the party grow ever-larger, decided to follow his pride and take a stand. "You carry the fate of us all, little one. If this is indeed the will of the council, then Gondor will see it done."

Achilles walked up to the small group. Achilles knelt before Frodo. "I may be a stranger to these lands, but I will follow you, and keep you as safe as I can. My feat of arms is at your disposal."

Odysseus chuckled slightly. "I should like to see you succeed, I do have my own nation to run. If taking this ring to a volcano to be destroyed is what it takes to save my home then I will do it. I grant you my wit and cunning." Odysseus walked up to join the group of travelers.

From the bushes behind the council a light shout was heard. Then Sam came running up the path and squeezed in next to Frodo. "Mr. Frodo is not going anywhere without me."

Elrond smiled at the willingness of Sam to join Frodo on any adventure he might take. "No, indeed it is hardly possible to separate you two, even when he is summoned to a secret council and you are not."

As though a group of nine companions wasn't enough, Merry and Pippin came running out from behind a couple of pillars.

"Oi, were coming too!" Merry shouted for the both of them. "You'll have to stuff us in a sack and tie us up to keep us from going."

"Besides, you need people of intelligence on this sort of mission… quest… thing." Gandalf rolled his eyes at Pippin's statement, questioning whether or not the Hobbit could hear himself.

Merry looked at his lifelong friend and sighed, "Well, I guess that rules you out, Pip."

Pippin, completely oblivious to what was going on just nodded his head. Then as the words got through to his brain he turned to Merry with a quizzical look.

"Where are you going, cousin?" Patroclus, who had been listening the entire time, walked into the council chamber. Elrond was getting rather annoyed at the fact that his supposedly secret meeting was no longer a secret.

"Patroclus, what are you doing here? You are supposed to be leaving to go back to Greece." Achilles looked at his cousin like a father would look at a son who just disobeyed his commands.

"You should know better, cousin. I will follow you anywhere you may go. Even if that requires ignoring an order." Patroclus smiled at Achilles. It was no use arguing with him, Achilles could never fight back after Patroclus' smile.

"Fine, but where is Ninniachel?" Achilles looked around puzzled by her absence.

"I am here." The voice came from above the council, where Ninniachel sat, lazily in a tree eating an apple. "I knew that Patroclus would come, and you requested that I guard him."

Ninniachel gracefully jumped from the tree and landed on her feet next to Patroclus.

Lord Elrond was getting flustered by the sudden intrusion of so many people. "Very well then, thirteen companions, you shall be called the Fellowship of the Ring."

"Great! Where are we going?" Everyone in the council just stared at Pippin, questioning his intelligence.

The next day, the thirteen set out to leave. Legolas checked his bow and made sure that no sound was made as he pulled back on the string. Boromir, along with Gimli's help, packed up each one of the seven horses with everything they would need. While the others packed, Aragorn knelt in front of a statue, while Lord Elrond spoke to him. Achilles just watched the exchange from the shadows.

Frodo had gone to say good-bye to his uncle one more time before he left. While Frodo was in his room, Bilbo pulled some things out that he wanted to give Frodo as gifts to aid him on his journey.

First, Bilbo handed Frodo his sword. As Frodo unsheathed the blade he could hear it hum from the vibrations. "My old sword Sting. It was crafted by the elves. It glows blue whenever Orcs or Goblins are nearby."

Next, Bilbo held up a metallic vest. "Here's a pretty thing. Mithril, as light as a feather, and as hard as a dragon's scale. Let me see you put it on. Go on." Bilbo handed the vest to Frodo.

Frodo began to unbutton his shirt to reveal the ring hanging around his neck.

Bilbo stopped what he was doing and just stared at the little golden ring. "Oh," Bilbo's lips quivered at the sight of the ring. "my old ring. I- I sure would l- like to hold it once more."

Frodo noticed the way that his beloved uncle looked at the ring. Fearing its power over him, Frodo began to button up his shirt. Suddenly, out of nowhere, Bilbo got a wild look in his eye and made a grab for the ring. Frodo took a step back, shocked at his uncle's sudden change of demeanor. Bilbo stopped himself and fell back on the bed with a cry.

"I'm sorry, my lad, I am sorry that I brought this upon you. I am sorry that you have to carry this burden. I am sorry for everything." With those last words Bilbo let out a flood of tears that he had been holding back ever since he saw Frodo's wound.

Frodo sat down next to his uncle and just held him for a few minutes.

Elrond stood in front of the Fellowship before they departed. "The Ring-bearer is setting out on the quest of Mount Doom and you who travel with him, no oath, nor bond, is laid to go further than you will. Hold to your purpose and may the blessings of elves, and men, and all free folk go with you. Farewell."

Aragorn looked at Arwen and smiled. Turning to go the thirteen companions set out on horseback for Mount Doom with nothing more than what they could carry on their backs and in their hearts.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter fourteen**

The Fellowship had been riding for a few hours, when Frodo spoke up. "What happened Gandalf? Why is it that you chose not to meet us at the inn?"

Gandalf did not look back at Frodo as he led the thirteen companions on. "I already told you, Frodo. I was delayed."

"Gandalf, I understand that, but what I don't understand is…why? You have always been punctual, the fact that you did not come to meet us still scrapes at the back of my mind." Gandalf let out a soft sigh, understanding that Frodo would never be content without a proper answer.

"I do apologize, Frodo, but I cannot tell you. The memory is still too real for me." As he told Frodo this he began to recall the events.

He was riding swiftly to Orthanc tower. Gandalf could hear Saruman as he descended the steps of the tower.

"Smoke rises from the mountain of doom. The hour grows late and Gandalf the grey rides to Isenguard seeking my council." Gandalf dismounted his horse and bowed to Saruman.

"For that is why you have come, it is not?"

The two of them walked the grounds of Isenguard as Gandalf explained everything.

"Are you sure of this Gandalf?" Saruman queried.

"There is no doubt in my mind." Gandalf answered assuredly.

"So the ring of power has been found." Saruman spoke with the slightest hint of malevolent joy.

"All these long years it has been in the Shire, right under my very nose,"

"And yet you did not have the wits to see it. Your love of the Halflings' leaf has clearly slowed your mind." Saruman did his best to act upset with Gandalf's lack of momentum.

"There is still time. We can counter Sauron if we act quickly."

Saruman stopped and looked at Gandalf. "Time! What time do you think we have?! Come with me," Saruman commanded. A few minutes later Saruman and Gandalf were inside of Isenguard discussing the situation of the ring.

"Sauron has regained much of his former strength, he cannot yet take physical form but his spirit has lost none of its potency. Concealed within his fortress the lord of Mordor sees all, his gaze pierces cloud, earth, shadow, and flesh."

Gandalf gave Saruman an afflicted look.

"You know of what I speak. A great eye, lidless, wreathed in flame." Saruman's eyes went wide as he spoke of the dark force.

"The eye of Sauron. We must still try to destroy the ring. It is the only way to save the whole of Middle-earth." Gandalf was practically pleading with Saruman.

"Tell me, what path would you take, you could make for the Gap of Rohan, but from what I have heard orcs are patrolling it constantly. You could also try for the Pass of Caradhras, however not even elves dare to venture that route now. What then, will you seek more dangerous roads?"

"It is possible for us to take the route under the mountain, through the great halls of Khazad-dûm. If we are lucky we can avoid notice and travel through unhindered."

"Moria, you fear to go in there Gandalf. You know what happened on that fateful day in Khazad-dûm. The Dwarves delved too greedily and too deep. They awoke an ancient evil there, a beast from the First Age, a creature of fire and shadow. The Balrog, so named Durin's bane."

"We can avoid the Balrog, if we can avoid notice by the Goblins."

"And still you fail to see the larger picture; Sauron is gathering all forces to him. Soon he will have an army large enough to launch an attack on the free peoples of Middle Earth."

"You know of this? How?" Gandalf gave Saruman a quizzical look.

"I have seen it." Saruman said as he turned to face the center chamber of Orthanc Tower.

"A palantir? That is a dangerous tool to use, Saruman."

"Why? Why should we fear to use it?" Saruman stood up and walked over to the pedestal in the center chamber and pulled off the black cloth covering a cloudy, black glass, orb. Gandalf followed Saruman into the room and grabbed the black cloth out of Saruman's hand.

"They are not all accounted for. We don't know who else might be watching." As Gandalf replaced the black cloth his hand touched the glass orb. For a split second he saw the eye of Sauron flash within his mind, just as it had when he tried to pick up the ring.

Saruman walked up to his black marble throne and sat down. "The hour is later than you think. Sauron's forces are already on the move. The Nine have left Minas Morgul."

"The Nine!" Gandalf's consternation was clear upon his face.

"They crossed the river Isen on midsummers' eve disguised as riders in black. They will find the ring, and kill the one who carries it."

"Frodo!" Gandalf spun around and began to march out of the room only to be stopped by the door slamming shut in his face. As he attempted to leave, the same thing occurred at each of the other doors.

"You did not seriously think that a Hobbit could contend with the will of Sauron, did you? There are none who can. Against the power of Mordor there can be no victory. We must join with him Gandalf, we must join with Sauron."

Gandalf stared in disbelief at Saruman. "Tell me, old friend, when did Saruman the wise abandon reason for madness?"

With that Saruman lost all self-control, picked up his staff, and launched an invisible discharge of energy at Gandalf. Gandalf was not nearly as strong of a wizard as Saruman but he was powerful in his own right. As the wizards' battle escalated, the two men swung their staves in vagrant motions releasing charges of energy with each pass. Using every ounce of strength he could muster, Gandalf retaliated, forcing Saruman back into his study. However, Gandalf's age was getting to him. He paused temporarily to rest, which gave Saruman enough time to gain control of Gandalf's staff. With both his own and Gandalf's staff in hand Saruman began to twist and pull at Gandalf's body with the invisible energy. As Gandalf writhed on the floor in pain Saruman began to walk closer.

"I gave you the chance to aid me willingly, but you… have elected… the way… of pain!" As he finished saying pain, Saruman pointed both staves upwards, launching Gandalf towards the ceiling. The walls of Isenguard blurred as Gandalf flew upwards.

"Gandalf?" Frodo looked at him with concern.

"Hmm?" Gandalf said as he came back from his memories.

"Are you all right, Gandalf? You looked like you were lost." Frodo had always considered Gandalf to be like a father to him. He was always concerned if something was amiss.

"I was, but only within my mind. There is nothing to worry about." Gandalf gave Frodo a smile and a wink then turned forward again to watch ahead of them.

After three hours of riding, Gandalf stopped and dismounted. "Alright, this is where we stop."

Aragorn was confused by this. He had at least seen where Mordor was, and this was nowhere near it. "Gandalf, why do we stop, we must get the ring to Mount Doom."

Gandalf turned around and smiled at Aragorn. "Because, this is where the horses leave, and we continue on foot."

"Continue on… are you mad? With the horses we will make it to Mordor in a matter of months. On foot it will take us at least a year." Boromir said astonishedly.

"Calm yourself Boromir." Ninniachel said in a soothing tone. "Gandalf is right, if we send the horses away then the enemy will have to try and follow foot prints rather than horse tracks, which I can tell you from experience, are much harder to find."

Boromir let out a grunt of disapproval but dismounted and unpacked his horse anyway. Once all the horses were unpacked the thirteen companions sent them on their way and continued on foot. After three more days of walking the group stopped next to the ruins of an old watch tower and rested. While the party was resting Ninniachel and Legolas kept watch for any enemy movement.

Gimli stood up from the rock he was sitting on and walked over to Gandalf. "If anyone was going to ask my opinion, which they're not, I would say that we are going the long way around. Gandalf, we could pass through the Mines of Moria, my cousin Balin would give us a royal welcome."

Gandalf gave Gimli a serious gaze before answering. "I would use the Mines of Moria only if the ring-bearer decided to. I am only looking for the safest path for him."

Gimli sighed and walked away, taking his place back on the rock.

While the others were resting Achilles, along with Boromir, were helping to train Merry and Pippin in the ways of combat.

"Come on, little one! I am sure you can do better than that," Boromir taunted Pippin into attacking.

"Watch this Merry, for your friend is about to be beaten." Achilles said watching the contest between Pippin and Boromir. Pippin reacted before he thought and swung wildly at Boromir. Boromir deflected the blade with ease and pushed Pippin back.

"Never let your opponent goad you into attacking them. Wait for them to make the first move." Achilles lectured Pippin. "Alright Merry, your turn, see if you can get me." Achilles gave Merry a sly smile.

"Let's see if I can do better." Merry smiled and charged at Achilles. However, rather than swinging wildly he let Achilles try and strike at him. As Achilles' blade came down, Merry used his small size to run behind Achilles and under his blade. Merry turned around and started to place his sword against Achilles back, only to find Achilles facing him with his brazen bronze blade pointing at his chest.

"It was a good tactic to use your size to your advantage. However, you need to be a bit faster if you want to use your size as a tool. Alright Pippin, try against Boromir again."

Aragorn chipped in with the lesson. "Move your feet Pippin, you're to stationary."

Pippin nodded. "All right, I can do this." This time when Pippin swung he was prepared for Boromir's parry. Just as Boromir brought his blade down to defend against the attack, Pippin pulled his blade back and thrust it forward, above Boromir's blade. In a desperate gambit to beat Pippin, Boromir brought up his blade. As his blade collided with that of Pippin's it slid down the length of the blade and nicked Pippin on the finger.

"Agh!" Pippin shouted as he dropped his blade and grabbed his hand.

"Oh sorry!" Boromir went up to Pippin to try and help him.

"Get him!" Merry shouted. Both he and Pippin tackled Boromir to the ground. As the trio play-wrestled, Aragorn and Achilles watched. Aragorn chuckled slightly as he watch the group play. Understanding that the training was more serious and needed to be continued, Achilles walked over to the trio and tried to break them up.

"Enough, we need to get back to practice." As Achilles grabbed Pippin, both of the two hobbits grabbed his feet and pulled him down to the ground with them. As Achilles fell over Aragorn guffawed at the scene that quickly began to unfold. His laughter was cut short though when Sam spoke up.

"What is that?" Sam pointed to a dark blob on the horizon.

"It's just a wisp of clouds, nothing more." Gimli said as he tried to disregard it.

Boromir stopped play-wrestling with the two Hobbits and looked at the dark blob. "It is moving fast… against the wind."

Legolas looked out with Ninniachel, the two of them nodded to each other in agreement. "Crebain!" Legolas shouted.

"They're coming from Dudland!" Ninniachel completed his statement.

"Hide!" Aragorn bellowed as he ran over to gather his things. The party of thirteen companions gathered everything together and started stuffing it in rocks and under plants in an attempt to avoid detection. Sam poured water on the fire to douse it.

"Hurry! They are almost here!" Boromir shouted as he rushed the Hobbits along.

Just as the thirteen companions found a hiding place for their belongings and themselves, the flock of Crebain flew over their heads. The sounds that the carrion birds made as the flew overhead was like that of the constant moans of people with the plague. The stench from these beasts was ever more horrid. They smelled of the corpses of weeks old animals, of which Aragorn was sure they had been feasting on. After making a single pass, the birds turned and flew back the way they came. As the Crebain flew away, the group came out from hiding.

"The southern pass is being watched, we have only two choices. Frodo, we can either go over the mountain through the pass of Caradhras, or we can go under the mountain, through the mines of Moria." Gandalf watched Frodo carefully as he waited for an answer.

"Let us go under the mountain, through the mines." Gandalf looked solemnly at Frodo, hearing his choice.

"So shall it be. Follow me." Gandalf started walking towards the mountains near a small pass that lead deep into the mountain chain's heart.

Later that evening the fellowship continued their journey through a foggy path in between two large peaks.

"Frodo, come help an old man." Gandalf called to the Hobbit. As Frodo came to help Gandalf, the old wizard placed his arm around Frodo. "How is your shoulder?"

"Better than it was. Why do you ask?" Frodo looked at Gandalf as a child would to a father.

"Can't I take an interest in your health?" Just as soon as the topic was light, Gandalf brought it crashing back to earth. "How is the ring? It is getting heavier isn't it?" Gandalf looked at Frodo's pocket. "I can feel its power grow too. You must be extra careful, Frodo. You need to start looking for enemies outside and, I fear, within the Fellowship." Just as Gandalf said that Gimli, soon followed by Odysseus, passed by the two of them.

As the fellowship cleared the fog, Gimli inhaled slightly at the sight. "There it is!" The dwarf said excitedly. "The Walls of Moria!" As the fog lifted the fellowship laid their eyes on a shear-faced cliff next to a black pool of still water.

"My word, what a sight indeed, if that is the wall then what does the inside look like?" Odysseus asked to no one in particular.

"You know, lord Odysseus, the dwarf doors are invisible when closed." Gimli said proudly as he went about tapping his axe upon the wall trying to find a change in the pitch of the impact.

"Yes, so good in fact at hiding them, that the dwarves themselves cannot find them if their secrets are forgotten." Gandalf said chuckling slightly at the statement.

"Why does that not surprise me?" Legolas stated as he watched Gimli search fruitlessly for the entrance to the hidden chambers.

"Bah!" Gimli grunted as he brushed off Legolas' statement.

As the thirteen companions continued to walk, Frodo slipped and stepped, ever so slightly, into the black pond, only to be saved by Aragorn, who grabbed him by the arm and hauled him away from the water.

"Be careful Frodo. Even the most calm of places can be fraught with danger." Aragorn warned him.

Gandalf walked up to a pair of trees growing ten feet apart and rubbed his hand over the stone, all the while mumbling to himself an ancient riddle of the rock. "Ithildin, it mirrors only starlight…" Gandalf looked up at the sky and waved his hand brushing away the clouds that blocked the light of the full moon. "…and moon light."

As the light of the full moon hit the door a high elven pattern of an archway with two trees growing around it appeared. In the crest of the archway was written Elvish inscriptions.

"Ennyn Durin aran Moria. Pedo mellon a minno - The Doors of Durin, Lord of Moria. Speak, friend, and enter." Achilles read aloud. Everyone, including Odysseus and Patroclus turned around to face the Myrmidon king.

"I had heard stories of this gate from my father, mostly about Celebrimbor the craftsman. Legend says that he was the greatest craftsman of all the elven lands, and Middle Earth, during his day." Gandalf looked stunned to hear that Achilles, a king from a foreign land, knew of legends of Middle Earth.

"Well that is nice and all but um, what do the runes mean?" Pippin asked.

"It is quite simple really, if you're a friend, you speak the password and the doors will open." Gandalf cleared his throat and spoke in a powerful commanding voice to the door. "Annon Edhellen, edro hi ammen!" As he finished speaking nothing happened. Pippin stood back with a large grin on his face expecting it to just take some time. Gandalf cleared his throat once more and tried to open the gate again.

"Fennas Nogothrim, lasto beth lammen!" Yet still the door remained solidly shut to the company.

"Nothing's happening." Pippin whispered to Legolas, unfortunately for him Gandalf could still hear him.

"It is quite clear that nothing is happening. I once knew every spell in all the tongues of Elves, Men, and Orcs, and I can't seem to open this blasted door." Gandalf leaned in and tried to push on it. Nevertheless, the sheer mass of the gate was too great.

"Well what are we going to do now?" Pippin asked, unwittingly putting himself on Gandalf's bad side once more.

"I intend to knock your head against these doors Peregrin Took! And if that doesn't work then maybe I can finally get some peace and quiet to solve this problem." Gandalf threw his staff and hat down next to a boulder and sat down to smoke his pipe and think about the quandary of the gate.

For a few hours nothing happened. The thirteen companions just sat around doing this and that. Achilles was standing next to the wall sharpening his blade. Ninniachel and Patroclus were sitting together under one of the two trees. Boromir was competing with the Hobbits on who could skip the stones farthest across the black pool, and Legolas was tending to his arrows, making sure that none of the fletching was out of place. For an Elvish arrow, if even one section of fletching is out of place then the entire arrow could fail to hit the preferred target. Gimli was sitting alone brooding over the idea that they might never enter into Moria. Aragorn, along with Sam were checking everything in the packs to make sure that all was in place for the remainder of the journey. As for Frodo, he had joined Gandalf and Odysseus on the boulder to try and crack the conundrum of the door.

Just as Boromir was about to throw another stone, Aragorn grabbed his wrist. "Do not disturb the waters." Aragorn stared at the water for a minute to see if he could find any movement. Seeing nothing he turned away from the black pool.

Patroclus, who had been thinking of a time when he and Achilles were young, shot up from his seat. "I've got it; I know what it is, cousin!" Patroclus shouted excitedly.

"What are you going on about?" Achilles asked curiously.

Everyone, including Gandalf, was staring at Patroclus waiting for an answer. "It is a riddle, cousin! Do you remember when we were kids and you would always hide in a fort and when I found you, you always told me to 'speak friend and enter'. I would always tell you the password but you would never let me in. I could never figure it out until now. You were not looking for a password; you wanted me to say the word friend!"

"Ah! He is right!" Gandalf beamed. "Well I am ready to get going. How about you? Mellon."

As soon as Gandalf spoke the word for friend, the massive stone gate began to open. With the gate opening the group began to enter into the mines of Moria.

Gimli was especially pleased about this. Long had he desired to return to the home of his cousin. "Soon, Elves, you will enjoy the fabled hospitality of the Dwarves. A roaring fire, malt beer, and ripe meat off the bone. This, friends, is the home to my cousin Balin, and they call it a mine, a mine!" Gimli was chuckling at the thought of the kingdom of the dwarves being called a mine when he knew that it was so much more than just some mine.

As Gandalf's staff lit up the room the fellowship's eyes were filled with the images of hundreds of dwarven bodies strewn about the entrance, each of the bodies having either an arrow or a blade wound in them.

"This is no mine, it is a Tomb. We never should have come here; we go back and make for the pass of Caradhras, or the Gap of Rohan." Boromir stated as he began to slowly walk backwards, making sure that the Hobbits were still behind him.

"No!" Gimli bellowed as he ran over to one of the corpses. "Nooooooo!"

Legolas knelt down and pulled out one of the arrows. "Goblins!" He said disgustedly and threw the arrow down on the ground.

As they were backing up something wrapped itself around Frodo's leg. The thing pulled on Frodo's leg, causing him to fall down. The thing began to drag Frodo towards the still black pool.

"Ah!" Frodo shrieked as the source of the object came out of the water. "Help!" Frodo yelled.

Everyone turned around to see what was going on, only to be struck by the image of the sickly green-colored creature that was trying to eat Frodo.

"Achilles! Aragorn! Help!" Frodo howled as he dangled above the creature's maw.

While Achilles and Aragorn ran out to help Frodo, Odysseus and Legolas pulled out their bows and fired arrows at the creature. The arrows did little in the ways of harming the creature but they did distract the thing long enough for Achilles to cut the tentacle holding Frodo. As the Hobbit fell Aragorn caught him in his arms. Still carrying Frodo both he and Achilles ran back into the mine, only to be followed by the creature. The gaping maw of the beast snapped at the companions a few times. As it pulled itself forward some of the support rocks came loose and crashed down on top of the beast, sealing it out and the fellowship inside. As the fellowship calmed down, Gandalf blew at the small stone at the top of his staff, creating a small light. Upon slamming the butt of his staff down on the ground the small light grew into a light as bright as a full moon on winter's night.

"We have no choice now but to go through the long, dark depths of Moria. Let us hope our presence here goes unnoticed, for there are far more foul things than Goblins in the deep places of the world." With that Gandalf started walking deeper into the mine, followed closely by the rest of the Fellowship.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

While the fellowship descended deeper into the cavernous vaults of Moria, the paths became ever more treacherous and precarious. As they were walking along a wall, Gandalf started to explain the history of Moria.

"Moria is a very old network of mines that the dwarves created back during the time of the Trees. During that time the Dwarves were very mobile, constantly searching for a safe haven away from the incessant attacks by the Orcs of Morgoth. Eventually a clan of Dwarves, called the Longbeards, found a valley in-between three massive peaks within the Misty Mountain chain. From here they could not only defend against attacks but also build up a city. Legends say that it was the first king of Khazad-dûm, Durin the first, who came upon the valley and found Kheled-zâram, better known as "Glass Lake", due to its almost perfect mirror-like reflection. While staring at the lake Durin saw his reflection crowned in seven stars, ever since then that collection of stars has been called Durin's Crown. By the time of Durin's death Moria was a flourishing empire under the mountain. Even back then its wealth was legendary. Unlike many of the other kingdoms of the Dwarves, such as the Iron Mountains, Moria's wealth was not in gold or silver, but rather mithril."

As Gandalf said this his staff lit up a small vein of mithril that reflected the light all throughout the endless abyss of mines, delving ever deeper into the earth.

"As a part of his contract, Thorin gave Bilbo a shirt of mithril rings." Gandalf smiled as he remembered it.

Gimli inhaled sharply when he heard Gandalf. "Oh, that is a kingly gift. To be given a shirt made of mithril is one of the greatest gifts a Dwarf can give anyone."

"Haha, I never told him but that shirt was worth more than the whole of the Shire."

After a couple days of walking the fellowship came upon a crossroads, one of three paths would lead them to the exit, the other two would only lead them deeper into the cavernous depths.

Gandalf looked around worriedly. "I have no memory of this place." Once again the fellowship was stalled in its quest while Gandalf remembered which path to go down.

"Merry, are we lost?" Pippin asked, frightened.

"It would appear so, but do not fear, little one. I am sure that the wizard will find the way." Boromir said assuredly, though he himself was also concerned if they would even find the way out.

"What were the two of you talking about?" Aragorn looked up suddenly to see Achilles standing over him.

"What? What were who talking about?" Aragorn questioned.

"You and Lord Elrond, what were the two of you talking about?" Achilles' eyes betrayed the curiousness that his voice so well-ensconced.

Aragorn looked sternly at Achilles as he responded. "We were speaking about my mother."

Achilles paused when he saw Aragorn's face. "That was her, wasn't it? That statue was of your mother."

Aragorn's eyes sank. "Yes, I still hold some dark part of me, a part that constantly questions why she left me in Rivendell. I know that she only wanted to keep me safe, but a child needs their mother more than safety. Perhaps Elrond was correct; perhaps, to keep safe those you love the most you must distance yourself from them."

Achilles was about to retort Aragorn's statement when Gandalf spoke up. "Ah! It's that way." Gandalf pointed down the center passage.

"He's remembered!" Merry said gleefully. He stood up, put out his pipe, and started to follow Gandalf.

"No, but the air does not smell so foul down here. When in doubt always follow your nose." Gandalf said and winked at the four hobbits.

As the fellowship exited the small passageway, they enter into a great chamber. The chamber was so dark that not even Legolas or Ninniachel could see through the blackness.

"Let me risk a little more light," Gandalf whispered to no one in particular blowing on the stone atop his staff once more. As he blew, the light emanating from the stone grew even brighter until a full ten feet were illuminated around the fellowship. As the light shown ever more the fellowship could see the massive vaulted ceiling being held up by immense columns that would have required fifty men, linked hand in hand, to wrap around each one.

"Behold, the great halls of the dwarves' city of Dwarrowdelf!" Gandalf announced.

"Well there's an eye-opener." Sam said astonished.

"In all my years, never before have I seen such masterful craftsmanship of stone work. I must say Gimli; your people are quite the artists when it comes to stone." Ninniachel bowed her head slightly as a show of respect to Gimli.

"As much as it pains me to say this, your people, as it turns out, are truly good at something." Legolas also bowed his head slightly; however he kept smiling, knowing full well that his comment was acrimonious.

Gimli sighed at Legolas' jest about his people, but still maintained his composure. "If you must know, master Elf, my people have been able to pull riches from the mountains that your people were never able to obtain on their own."

Gimli gave Legolas a smug look and continued walking. As the Fellowship rounded another column Gimli let out a soft cry. He bolted to a small room off to the side of the main chamber.

"Gimli!" Gandalf shouted. However Gimli paid him no heed, he had to know if what he saw was the truth.

As Gimli ran into the small shelter he was trailed by the other twelve companions. Inside of the small room a beam of light flooded the area making it just bright enough for the thirteen companions to see without the aid of Gandalf's staff. Strewn about the floor were the bodies of Dwarves, each of them had died years ago. Gandalf walked up to the tomb placed in the center of the shelter and read what was upon the stone sarcophagus.

"Here lies Balin, son of Fundin, Lord of Moria.' He is dead then. It's as I feared." Gandalf placed a hand on Gimli's shoulder, who was now weeping as he rested his head on the granite tomb.

As Gandalf and the fellowship allowed Gimli his moment of sorrow, Gandalf bent over and picked up an ancient tome being held by one of the dwarves. Gandalf removed his hat and handed both it and his staff to Pippin to hold.

"Hold these, and don't touch anything!" Gandalf said in a stiff tone.

Legolas turned to Aragorn and whispered. "We must move on. We cannot linger."

"Legolas is correct. It would be a folly to remain here much longer." Ninniachel turned back to Gandalf who was holding the worn and battered tome. Opening the book he turned to the last pages and began to read from the ancient book.

"They have taken the gate, and the second hall." As Gandalf read, the entire fellowship ceased moving. Overcome with fear about what might happen if too much noise was made, they all simply listened to Gandalf as he read.

"We have barred the gates, but cannot hold them for long. The ground shakes. Drums, drums, drums in the deep. We cannot get out, a shadow moves in the dark. We cannot get out… they are coming!" Everyone in the Fellowship looked around nervously expecting some creature or beast to come slithering out of the shadows to kill them all. Pippin nervously stepped backwards until his foot bumped into something. Turning around he noticed the corpse of a Dwarf sitting atop a well. Without even thinking about it he lightly touched the arrow causing the head to fall down the well, until it disappeared into darkness, crashing and clanging all the way down. As the head fell, everyone in the fellowship turned to look at Pippin, each of them harboring the look as though he had just sealed their doom. To exacerbate the situation, the entire Dwarf corpse, along with the bucket he was holding, fell into the well. The clatter resounded throughout the deep chasms of Moria, its twisted metal sounds echoing in the dark. Then, just as quickly as the sound arose it faded again.

Once the noise had ceased Gandalf marched up to Pippin and took back his hat and staff. "Fool of a Took! We are lucky that our noise has gone unnoticed! Throw yourself in next time to save us from your stupidity!"

"That was a close one. My heart was racing ever since he started reading that." Odysseus said to no one in particular. Odysseus walked over and picked up the book and placed it in his pack. "Say what you will but I have an unquenchable desire for knowledge. I want what knowledge this book contains."

"Well I suppose we should keep moving then. I was never fond of not seeing the sunlight. Which way do we go now?" Achilles asked Gandalf.

"We go th-" Gandalf's words were cut off as he heard it. It was soft at first but quickly grew. The beating of the drums grew louder and louder with each passing moment. Their thuds echoed through the deep. Sam looked down and saw Frodo's blade glowing blue.

"Mr. Frodo!" Sam pointed. Upon removing the blade from its sheath the room was filled with the pale blue light coming from Sting.

"Orcs!" Legolas said in a snide tone.

"Help me barricade this door!" Boromir shouted as he ran to the old wooden gate. Achilles and Legolas followed him to aide in putting whatever possible in front of that ancient wooden door.

"Get back, little ones! Stay behind Gandalf!" Aragorn commanded.

"Rahhh!" Gimli bellowed as he went to stand atop his cousin's tomb. "Let them come! There is one Dwarf yet in Moria who still draws breath!"

Once the gate was barred the fellowship stood back, waiting for the inevitable onslaught. In the distance they could hear the roar of an ancient beast.

"They have a cave troll. Well, this is pleasant." Boromir said sarcastically.

Orcs began hacking down the door with their crude blades. Legolas, Aragorn, and Odysseus fired at the hordes of beasts through the holes in the door. With one final thrust, the Orcs finally broke through the doors, launching themselves at the Fellowship. Just as the battle began a cave troll barreled its way through the stone archway. The great beast swung its hammer from side to side, haphazardly striking at anything that might have gotten in the way. This included, but was not limited, to, Orcs, dwarven corpses, and a few stone carvings of Durin the I. Noticing Gimli on the tomb, the cave-troll brought his hammer down on top of the ancient piece of marble. Gimli was a Dwarf, but he was not clumsy. Gimli jumped out of the way of the hammer and began hacking at the legs of the cave-troll. The cave-troll seemed more annoyed than injured, as though the hacking was nothing more than a scratch to the great beast.

"Th-that?" Achilles stuttered.

"Yes, it is the beast you fought in the arena of Ost-Morsereg. Do not worry. This clumsy creature is of little threat to us. I am more concerned with darker and more foul things than such a being." Ninniachel said trying to calm Achilles. "Protect Frodo! We will handle this troll."

"Patroclus, duck!" Ninniachel shouted in the nick of time. As Patroclus evaded, the hammer of the troll went swinging over his head only to lightly brush his black hair.

Trying to get a better shot of the beast, Legolas climbed atop the ledge that encircled the room. While on the ledge he was ambushed by some goblins who were hiding behind some columns. In the process of dealing with the goblins, Legolas failed to notice that the troll was now walking towards him.

"Legolas!" Gimli shouted and lunged at the grey troll. Picking up a throwing axe he launched it at the troll's head. He only grazed the troll but it annoyed the troll enough to draw its attention back to Gimli.

"Come at me, you grey pit beast! Let's see if you can handle a Dwarf's metal!" Gimli blared at the grey brute. Just as the brute set its sights on Gimli another wave of Orcs came rumbling in, blocking Gimli from view. Losing track of its target, the cave-troll turned around to look for another possible meal. As it turned the thing came face to face with Achilles and the four hobbits. Thrown into a blind rage it brought its hammer down on the group of five companions. All five of the companions split as the hammer came crashing to the cold earth. The stupid beast picked up its hammer looking to see if it might have crushed one of the targets under it. Noticing it was only a goblin the grey monster snorted and turned to see if it could find another morsel. Frodo was hiding on the sidelines, trying to avoid combat near one of the ancient pillars. The barbaric creature lumbered over to Frodo, expecting an easy meal, only to be stopped by Aragorn.

Picking up an ancient spear, Aragorn thrust the wrought iron spear head in between the ribs of the ugly beast. In a cry of pain the beast dropped its hammer and grabbed at the spear protruding out of its side. As it removed the spear the creature threw Aragorn across the room and into a wall, causing him to lose consciousness. The great beast bent over and picked up Frodo by the leg, only to be cut by Sting. The beast let out a soft moan at the small cut the blade had made. The cave-troll was now very agitated with all the wounds it had been given and decided to take its frustration out on the nearest target. Picking up the ancient spear it thrust the head straight for Frodo. Frodo, too panicked to watch, closed his eyes as he waited for the inevitable burning sting of the blade entering into his flesh. Not until he heard a loud pang did he open his eyes. Looking up he saw Achilles standing over him with the head of a spear protruding through his shield.

"Go Frodo! Now! I cannot hold back this thing for long!" Achilles spat through gritted teeth. Looking down, Frodo noticed there was blood running onto the floor.

"Achilles!" Frodo shrieked.

"We will worry about that later. For now you need to move so that I can kill this thing. Move!" Achilles commanded. With that command Frodo bolted up from the ground and ran over to Gandalf. Just as he reached Gandalf, an arrow came flying through the air and struck him in the chest, only to be followed by three more. Everyone in the room held their breath as they watched Frodo fall to the ground.

"Frodo!" Pippin shouted.

"No, Mr. Frodo!" Sam cried as he ran over to the motionless body of Frodo.

Not wanting to waste any more time, Achilles removed the spear from his shield and thrust his bronze blade deep into the beast's chest. Blind with rage and anguish the fellowship turned all of their hatred towards their enemies. Boromir, Legolas, and Odysseus struck down the Orcs who had shot Frodo. The remainder turned their might towards the cave-troll and struck out with a righteous fury. Merry and Pippin jumped on top of the troll and began stabbing it in the head. Gimli brought his double-headed axe into the creature's back leaving a deep gash. As all the pain and injuries surmounted, the cave-troll began to stumble. With one final blow from Patroclus the beast began to topple over. When it hit the stone floor, the entire room shook with the impact.

"Mr. Frodo, please Mr. Frodo, don't be dead." Sam sobbed while he sat next to Frodo. While Sam sat sobbing, the small hobbit drew in one deep breath.

"Mr. Frodo! You're alive!" Sam exclaimed through the tears.

"But how is this possible? Those arrows would have skewered a wild boar." Aragorn said befuddled by Frodo's miraculous recovery.

Gandalf walked over to where everyone was gathered and smiled at Frodo. "I do believe that there is more to this hobbit than meets the eye." Giving a nod to Frodo the hobbit opened up his shirt to reveal a mithril shirt just underneath.

Gimli inhaled slightly as he spoke. "Mithril! Bless you laddie."

"Frodo, we are all glad that you are safe. However, we must keep moving. It is still not safe here." Ninniachel bent over and hauled him off the ground.

"This battle may be over, but we are far from safe. We must hasten to the bridge. Follow me." Gandalf turned around and fled the tomb through a massive hole in the wall. The fellowship ran, as fast as their legs could carry them, away from that old tomb in the ancient halls, towards an uncertain end.


	16. Chapter 16

To everyone who has waited for so long and has been patient with me. Thank you, as your reward, the long awaited Chapter 16 of The World is Changed is now up for your viewing/ reading pleasure. Enjoy.

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**Chapter Sixteen**

As the Fellowship fled the ancient tomb they were soon followed by hordes of Goblin and Orcish solders. Despite their pace, the Goblins numbers seemed endless and they were soon surrounded. The Orcs snarled viciously at the companions. Every Orc salivated at the thought of how they were going to be able to feast on such ripe flesh. The beasts growled and gnashed their teeth as an attempt to drive the point home that the Fellowship would soon be dead. Deep within the halls a guttural rumbling sound echoed. The sound reminded Frodo of when he was a boy, hiding under the covers from a summer storm. The Orcs and Goblins looked frightened as they turned running back into their holes that, they had not five minutes earlier, crawled out of. The Fellowship turned to see what could have made such a noise. From within the fathomless halls a fiery light filled the corridors with an eerie orange illumination. The light, although hot, did not have the same warm and comforting feeling that one would get from a fireplace.

Boromir turned to Gandalf and spoke in a barely audible tone. "What is this new devilry?"

Gandalf's eyes closed for a moment as the memory leapt to the front of his mind.

"A Balrog, a demon of the ancient world. None of you are a match for this creature." Gandalf made a sharp pivot on his heel and began to sprint down the hall. "Run!"

Following Gandalf's commands the rest of the fellowship fell in behind Gandalf at a hare's pace. Not one of the Fellowship stopped to see if the beast was still following them. As they entered a narrow passage way, the Fellowship began running down a flight of stairs. Moving as fast as he could Boromir failed to notice the sudden drop off caused by a missing section and very nearly fell to his doom in the endless abyss only to be saved by Legolas. Once he had pulled Boromir back from certain doom the party began to hurriedly travel down another side staircase that was still intact. As the party descended the precarious staircase they came to yet another break within the old brick stone work.

"We cannot jump this Aragorn; the gap is too wide for us Hobbits." A concerned look crossed Frodo's face as he glanced at the ranger.

"I am well aware of this little one. Boromir, Legolas, Ninniachel, you three get across and be prepared to catch the little ones." Aragorn commanded. Not wanting to waste any time, the trio jumped across the gap and awaited the others.

Achilles grabbed the back of Sam's pack. "Mr. Achilles, sir what are you doing?" The panic in Sam's voice was obvious.

Achilles looked down at the Hobbit. "Whatever you do, don't flail."

"Wha-" Sam's sentence was cut off as he was lobbed across the gap to an open armed Boromir.

With swift movements Achilles threw both Merry and Pippin across to Legolas and Ninniachel. Achilles turned to face is two lifelong friends. "Patroclus, Odysseus, go now!"

Without a second thought the two of the leapt across the gap with ease. Achilles reached over to grab and toss Gimli. Just as he was about to grab Gimli the dwarf held up a hand.

"No need friend." Putting all of his might into it he jumped to the other side of the gap. As Gimli landed on the other side one of the bricks gave out under his foot and caused him to tumble backwards. As his feet rested upon the precipice of the abyss below, he was stopped short of certain death. His savior, Patroclus, had grabbed onto the only thing available at the time, which was the dwarf's beard. When Patroclus tugged on the harry face, Gimli let out a throaty roar in pain.

"Not the beard!" Gimli bellowed. As Patroclus hauled the dwarf back onto solid footing an arrow hit the ground next to his foot and ricocheted out across the open vastness. Patroclus turned to the source of the shot and pointed "Odysseus, take them out."

Turing to the source of the arrow fire, Odysseus, Legolas, and Boromir drew their bows and began firing into the darkened platform, aiming for the shadows that hid themselves behind pillars. While the three bowmen fired at phantoms the rest of the Fellowship began to cross the gap. With little more than a hop, Achilles crossed to the opposite side of the staircase.

"Come Wizard, it is your turn to cross." Aragorn nudged him forward.

"I am moving; do not seek to rush a seven thousand year old Wizard." Gandalf walked gingerly towards the edge of the staircase. Gandalf peered over the edge and took a small step backwards. "That is quite the way down."

"Please Gandalf, just jump." Frodo pleaded.

"Very well lad." Heeding Frodo's request, Gandalf jumped across the gap and into Achilles arms.

"You're next Frodo." The Hobbit nodded to Aragorn's command. As Frodo placed one foot out a loud crashing sound echoed through the vaulted halls. The Fellowship looked behind only to see the stone wall in-between themselves and the Balrog was cracking under the beast's constant pounding. When the monster slammed into the wall once more, stones broke loose from the ceiling and came crashing down. One of the massive stone blocks collided with the old brick work staircase. The impact caused the remaining connections to shatter like old glass. When the connection broke, the entire pillar began to wobble from side to side. Unable to take the weight the old staircase cracked its base.

Noticing this, Aragorn place his hand on Frodo's shoulder and held on tightly.

"Hold on and move with me." Frodo nodded and attempted to mimic Aragorn's movements. Keeping in time with the exiled king, Frodo leaned forward. As the duo moved the entire column creaked and moaned as it toppled towards the rest of the fellowship. When the staircase collided with its lower counterpart, Aragorn and Frodo lurched forward into the arms of Legolas and Achilles. Without taking a moment's pause, the Fellowship continued there decent down to the relative safety of the main floor.

At the end of the staircase Gandalf halted momentarily to take a few deep breaths. "Go Aragorn, the bridge is near."

Gandalf pointed towards a corner at the end of the room which lead towards a seemingly endless chiasm of blackness that seemed as though it wished to devour the world if only it could escape. Once the fellowship reached the bridge Gandalf began ushering the rest of the Fellowship across.

"Over the bridge. Fly!" As the thirteen companions began traveling across the bridge Gandalf stopped Aragorn.

"Now is where you lead them." Gandalf smiled at Aragorn with a small glint in his eye. Before Aragorn could ask any further questions Gandalf pushed the ranger across the bridge. While the rest of the Fellowship crossed the bridge Gandalf paused halfway and turned to face the blazing inferno roaring behind them. When he turned the Balrog lunged forward from the flames and roared in its guttural bellow.

"You cannot pass!" Gandalf spoke with as much force as his lungs could muster.

"Wizard, what are you doing?" Achilles yelled across the chasm.

"Gandalf!" Frodo cried franticly in an attempt to reach him. Only to be held back by the strong arms of Boromir. The Balrog, in an attempt to frighten Gandalf, stood upright upon its cloven feet and stretched out its wings. The beast was like nothing that Frodo or anyone else of the Fellowship had seen. Its face was nearly impossible to make out through the fire and smoke. What did stand out was its glowing yellow eyes and gaping maw that roared fire with every breath. Atop its head blazed a raging inferno of burnt yellow flame that appeared to engulf the entire backside of the beast which crafted a malicious visage. From where the ears should have been sprouted two ram's horns, long and protruding, giving the understanding that, should you come into contact with the horns, you would be impaled. Its flesh was that of molten rock, cracked and smoking, while lava from the deepest bowels of the earth seeped through each fracture in the skin. The wings of the evil beast seemed to have no substance other than the smoking tendrils that held them together.

"I am the Servant of the Secret Fire. Wielder of the Flame of Anor." Razing his staff high above his head a sphere of light engulfed Gandalf only to vanish a few seconds later.

"The dark fire will not avail you, Flame of Udûn!" While Gandalf spoke a molten sword, born from the hand of the Balrog itself, materialized. The Balrog brought the sword down upon Gandalf's head with as much might as it could muster. To everyone's shock, and the Balrog's dismay, once the sword made contact with the invisible sphere the magic holding it together fell apart and the sword dissolved back into its liquid magma form. Taking a step forward, the Balrog placed one of its cloven feet upon the walk way, as though it was testing it to make sure it would hold its weight. From its left hand a whip appeared in the same way as the sword had shortly before it.

"Go back to the Shadow." Gandalf cursed at the Maia demon.

"You shall not pass!" Gandalf placed his sword and staff together and slammed them down upon the ancient bridge. When his staff slammed on the ground the entire chasm shuddered from the bombastic echo. Disregarding his warning the Balrog placed another cloven hoof upon the bridge only to have it give was under its feet. As the bridge collapsed the winged demon was sent tumbling down with it, its whip flailing about helplessly as the beasts' burning form was consumed by the never ending darkness. Once the Maia demon vanished, Gandalf let out a sigh of relief. Gandalf turned back to the other members of the fellowship and started walking towards them, suddenly, as if the all-consuming shadow had spewed it forth, the Balrog's whip flew out of the abyss and wrapped itself around Gandalf's leg. It pulled him back towards the edge causing him to lose his footing and drop both his staff and sword, only to watch them plummet into the shadows after the great beast.

"Gandalf! No!" Frodo struggled with Boromir as much as he could to break free, however Boromir's grip held firm. Moving the fellowship out of his way, Achilles attempted to make a mad dash for the wizard, who was clinging to the edge of the bridge with failing strength. As he was about to place a foot on the bridge he felt the strong hand of Odysseus pull him back, only to have his face narrowly missed by an Orcish arrow aimed at his head.

With the last ounce of his strength Gandalf pulled himself up just high enough for everyone to see his face. "Fly you fools. Fly." With those words Gandalf's grip failed him and he plummeted into the endless abyss after the Balrog.

"No!" Frodo's cries could be heard even over the whizzing arrows and the shouts of Boromir attempting to push everyone forward towards the exit of the mines. Aragorn and Achilles look on in dismay at the event that had just transpired. Achilles was draw out of his stupor by Odysseus and Patroclus pulling him towards the exit and away from the tragic scene. Rushing forwards Achilles grabbed Aragorn's forearm. Aragorn turned to see Achilles mournful gaze mirroring his own.

"He is gone Aragorn, we must move." Achilles reassured him and the duo hurried after the rest of the Fellowship, out to the safety of day light.

As the Fellowship exited the mines the reality of what had just transpired finally set in. Sam sat alone crying. He remembered all of the times that Gandalf had chastised him on how to be a better person. Not in an attempt to make him feel bad about something but rather to make him understand that certain things were wrong. Merry and Pippin clung on to each other for comfort as friends like brothers often do. Boromir's head rested in the palm of his hand, never had he looked up to someone as a model on who to be as he did Gandalf. He respected Aragorn and Achilles, there was no denying that, however neither of them had made an impression of someone who was worthy of being a leader to people. Gimli was being held back by a struggling Odysseus, spewing profanities and, cursing everything from the rocks he was standing on to the wizard who had decided to die on them. Odysseus said nothing; he simply bemoaned the wealth of knowledge that was lost upon Gandalf's death. Patroclus sat upon the rocks with Ninniachel. Although Patroclus knew little of the wizard, in the time that he had known him, Patroclus had considered Gandalf to be a dear friend. Ninniachel placed her hands upon Patroclus' face and turned his sad gaze towards her. Allowing their eyes to lock, Patroclus allowed a few tears to fall and rested his head upon Ninniachel's chest. Legolas stood in the center of everything in a daze, his understanding that Gandalf was an infallible being had been shattered that day. Achilles walked up to Legolas and placed his hand upon the elf's shoulder. Legolas turned to look at Achilles, the elf's gaze a pale visage of its usual stoic nature.

"Legolas, Ninniachel. Get them up." Aragorn commanded devoid of all emotion in his voice as he finished wiping his sword clean of Orc blood.

"Give them a moment for pities sake; give them time to grieve." Boromir pleaded.

"By nightfall these hills will be swarming with Orcs. We must reach the woods of Lothlórien. Come, Boromir, Legolas, Gimli, Achilles, get them up." Aragorn sheathed his sword and walked over towards Sam, grabbed him by the vest, and hauled him up off of the ground.

"On your feet Sam." Turning away from Sam, Aragorn noticed that Frodo had wandered away from the group.

"Frodo?" Aragorn inspected the surrounding area in an attempt to locate Frodo. Looking towards the east Aragorn noticed the small Hobbit marching blindly toward the forests of Lothlórien.

"Frodo!" Aragorn yelled after him. As Frodo turned around Aragorn's gaze was met with one that was neither sorrowful nor angry. Frodo seemed to have become lost in a haze of depression and anguish that could show itself in no other way than stoicism with naught more than a few tears washing away the grime from whence they fell. Frodo's gaze pierced Aragorn with the look that seemed to say 'Why didn't you save him?', a question that Aragorn had asked himself.

They had been traveling for more than a year now, never stopping too long in one location. The last place they had attempted to stay in was already controlled by another race of people who did not take too kindly to outsiders. The group had set sail from Troy so long ago on a small fleet of Pentekonters, some of them had survived the grueling voyage but many had sunk under the waves of Aruna's wrath. To many on the ships the hope that they had of finding new lands and a new home were lost.

"Brothers, we have been sailing now for weeks. The last time we have seen any sight of land was when we were forcibly removed from our last holding. Our people grow restless." Aeneas' voice was confrontational as he attempted to get the point across that the last people of Troy had grown weary of seeing open ocean and needed to find a home.

"Aeneas, you worry too much. The gods will lead us to our destined home. Just you watch." Hector stood defiantly at the bow of the ship, as though nothing that had transpired could faze him.

"I wish that I shared your convictions brother, I am beginning to side with Aeneas on this one. Perhaps we should turn back and forge our new home through war with those last peoples we met." Paris spoke with an air of dignity and importance. Ever since the burning of Troy and the death of his late father, he and his two brothers had taken up a semi diplomatic council where they all made decisions but Hector had the last say.

Hector raised his eyebrow slightly. "Tell me brother, how do you think our people would win against a people who were born into conflict? Those people we met, those Haradrim, did not seem to care when they killed twenty five of our people simply because we were on their sovereign land."

Paris' eyes sank. "You are correct brother; I just hate to see good lives be wasted only to run from a foe that has scarred us."

"Are we still not running? Are we still not fleeing a foe who has scarred us? Remember we fled Troy to escape the warmongering of King Agamemnon." Aeneas nearly choked on the name, as though just saying it would cause you great suffering.

"True, we are, but perhaps that is about to change. Land ho!" Hector bellowed as the small fleet of fourteen Pentekonters neared a fairly large island within a rather protected cove. As the fleet made landfall everyone on board, including the three princes, heaved a sigh of relief that the island they had found was rather empty.

"Paris, do you still have that map that I requested you steal?" Paris reached into a leather satchel he had obtained through one of the merchants in a past city and pulled out an old worn leather map. He undid the bindings and handed it to Hector.

Aeneas leaned over to inspect the map with his brother. "We followed a course due north, which by my sun calculations we did, for the most part, we should be on this island here." Aeneas pointed to a large island in a bay just outside of a very large river.

"Well that is nice brother but where is 'here'?" Paris' sarcastic attitude never did amuse Aeneas but it was better than having nothing to entertain oneself with on a ship in the middle of the ocean.

"Well, brother, this island is not, according to this map, named." Aeneas looked up from the map triumphantly, as if his answer had, somehow, rubbed his brother's smug comment in the dirt. However his victory was short lived when Hector looked again at the map.

"This island has a name… although I cannot read the language." Hector pointed to some scribbling in an unknown language on the image of the island. He stood up from the map and walked to the edge of the Pentekonter and watched his subjects start to put up tents for homes.

"Yes this will be our new home, away from the wars of our fathers. A new start for our people, and a new day rises."

Further to the south a massive fleet lumbered slowly towards its destination. Behind them was naught but the smoking ruin of the island city from which the princes of Troy had left two weeks prior. On board the ships were thousands of Greek solders, all of whom followed one who was hooded and cloaked. The black cloth whipped through the air as the Pentekonters sailed swiftly through the calm ocean waters.

"My lord, some of the people we captured have told us that the ones you are searching for never set foot upon their land. Others did however, and they told us that perhaps they might know." The messenger bowed low to his master and stepped backwards very slowly.

"I will have my revenge; I am coming for you Achilles. I want my rings." The hollow voice spoke without warmth or understanding. The pale shadow of what was once a great king now plowed forward with only vengeance upon its mind. The shade raised its blade high above its head and pointed it north. In which every man on every ship shouted in unison.

"For Lord Agamemnon, King of Kings!"


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen**

The remainder of the Fellowship continued their descent of the craggy face of the mountain. After half an hour's journey, the Fellowship came upon a vast expanse of open field in-between the Misty Mountains and a dense forest. Aragorn breathed a sigh of relief as his eyes fell upon the sight.

"Come, our journey nears respite." The Fellowship followed Aragorn, making swift time across the meadow towards the woodlands. Upon entering the forest the Fellowship became flooded with soft music. The harmony did not come from birds or animals, but rather the trees. The trees created a soothing melody of wind chimes as the soft breeze passed listlessly through them. As the Fellowship continued to march through the wooded grove Gimli drew the Hobbits near to him.

"Stay close young Hobbits, they say there's a great sorceress that lives in these woods. An Elf-witch of terrible power, all who look upon her fall under her spell."

As Frodo listened to Gimli, a voice echoed upon the wind. It appeared to come from nowhere and everywhere all at once. The voice was soft and yet, within its comforting exterior Frodo could hear the power that the voice commanded.

"_Frodo."_ The voice whispered to the Hobbit. Frodo looked around the wooded grove in search of the mystical voice.

"_Frodo!"_ The voice whispered once more, its tone more forceful than before. The voice seemed to demand attention from the Hobbit.

"Those who are placed under her spell are never seen again." Gimli finished. Whether he attempted to tell the Hobbits in order to scare them, or advise them, Frodo could only fathom a guess.

The voice spoke up once more. _"Your coming to us is as the footsteps of doom."_ Frodo halted mid stride as the voice continued to speak.

"_You bring great evil here, Ring bearer!"_ The voice echoed within his mind the title he had gained in Rivendell before it fell silent. Frodo remained motionless until Sam placed a hand upon Frodo's shoulder.

"Mr. Frodo?" Sam looked at him with concern.

"It's nothing Sam." Frodo brushed off Sam's concern and continued to follow the rest of the Fellowship.

Gimli's gruff voice boomed once more. "Well, this is one Dwarf she won't ensnare so easily! I have the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a fox." No sooner had he spoken than the entire Fellowship were surrounded by the rangers of Lothlórien. Achilles reacted without thinking and drew his blade, only to have Ninniachel place her hand on top of his. He understood her meaning, and sheathed his blade once more. One elf in particular stepped forward from the group.

"The dwarf breaths so loud we could have shot him in the dark." Gimli scoffed at the elf's statement. The elf turned and motioned for the others to follow him.

Later that evening the Fellowship stood upon a platform high within the trees. From this vantage point the elves could strike down any foe who sought to encroach within their lands. The elf that had lead them to the platform, stood before the twelve companions. The elf's gaze was stern and harsh, as though he had known too much war for one so pure. The elf walked up to Legolas and placed his hand upon his heart.

"Mae govannen, Legolas Thuranduilion." Legolas responded by placing his own hand over his heart.

"Govannas vîn gwennen le, Haldir o Lórien." Haldir bowed his head slightly before moving on only to stop at Aragorn.

"A, Aragorn in Dúnedain istannen le ammen." Aragorn bowed to Haldir's statement.

"Haldir." Haldir looked behind Aragorn only to see Ninniachel standing to the rear of the group next to Patroclus, Odysseus, and Achilles.

"Muinthêl, Ninniachel." Haldir walked towards Ninniachel and embraced her. Haldir released Ninniachel and gazed at her with the love that one gives a sister.

"Ananann'ir le gw'ann na Karningul." Ninniachel smiled at Haldir's statement.

"M'ell gw'ador, glam boe daur." Ninniachel looked at Patroclus and smiled. He stood next to the two elves, mute with confusion. Gimli huffed loudly before speaking up.

"So much for the legendary courtesy of the Elves. Speak in a language that we can all understand." Haldir turned around to see the ornery dwarf, as he stood beside Aragorn, with a frustrated look upon his face.

"We have not had dealings with the dwarves since the dark days." Haldir affixed his stern gaze on the dwarf in hopes that it would silence him. This only caused Gimli to become more enraged at the elf.

"And do you know what this dwarf says to that? Ishkahqwi ai durugnul!" Aragorn turned around and slammed his hand down on Gimli's shoulder.

"That was not so courteous." Aragorn's words seethed with anger held back by the very thin veil of friendship. Haldir appeared to be unperturbed by Gimli's statement and turned away. As his eyes scanned the rest of the Fellowship they fell upon Frodo. Once his gaze locked on the small Hobbit he inhaled slightly in shock before he regained his composure.

"You bring great evil with you. You can go no further!" Haldir made a sharp pivot on his foot and walked away from the Fellowship. Everyone looked at Frodo; none of them said anything but they all understood why they were being denied passage. All due to a small golden ring that hung around his neck. He could see their disappointment and frustration as it seeped through their forlorn looks. Aragorn turned back from Frodo and walked towards Haldir, followed closely by Ninniachel. For the next few hours Aragorn and Ninniachel attempted to convince Haldir that they needed the safety of Lothlórien more than the Elves should fear the power of Mordor.

"Boe ammen veriad lîn. Andelu i ven!" Aragorn had a slight tone of frustration in his voice as spoke to Haldir.

"I Faen Rîn…" Haldir's words were lost as he lowered his voice. Frodo sat alone holding his legs tucked up to his chest. Boromir noticed the Hobbit's disposition and treaded towards him. Without seeing if it was alright, Boromir took a seat across from Frodo.

"Gandalf's death was not in vain. Nor would he have you give up hope. You carry a heavy burden Frodo. Do not carry the weight of the dead." Boromir did his best to comfort the small Hobbit. He could not be sure if it helped but he was sure that Frodo understood his meaning.

"Gw'ador, anna pendrath…" Ninniachel's final words were lost, however they appeared to have worked. Haldir threw up his hands in defeat and walked towards the remaining members of the Fellowship.

"You will follow me." Haldir commanded the Fellowship before he climbed down the platform. The Fellowship followed Haldir for the better portion of a day. As they traveled, Haldir took them upon a winding path that, if one did not have a guide, would surely cause one to become lost. When the sun had just begun to set Haldir paused at the top of a hill and pointed out to the east. The Fellowship came upon the hill and gazed at the horizon to see what Haldir had focused on. There, upon the horizon, was a grand hill; atop the hill were hundreds of massive trees. Each one of the trees reached high into the sky, as though they kept the roof of the world aloft. Haldir smiled proudly at the sight.

"Caras Galadhon, the heart of Elvendom on earth. Realm of the Lord Celeborn and of Galadriel, Lady of Light." The Fellowship arrived in Caras Galadhon just as the sun's final rays pierced through the canopy. As the Fellowship entered Caras Galadhon they were directed towards one massive tree that stood in the center of all the others. On the outside of the tree was a grand staircase that wound around the trunk as it climbed to ever greater heights. Haldir began his accent of the staircase and motioned for the rest of the Fellowship to follow. While they climbed, the company was met with sights unlike any they had seen before. The construction of each building was a kin to that of Rivendell. Despite this the buildings did not look out of place. The connections from the buildings to the trees were seamless, as though the buildings had grown from the trees themselves. As they reached the precipice the Fellowship saw before them a palace made from the branches of the great trees. From the ceiling hung lanterns that emitted a pale blue glow that seemed to be made from pure star light. The floor of the palace was littered with the leaves of the Mallorn trees that constantly shed their old growths for new ones. The Fellowship stood in a grand foyer as they awaited their hosts.

Whilst standing within that wooded palace the entire foyer lit up, to the Fellowship it appeared as though a comet had just landed within the center of the palace. While the twelve companions stood basking in the light, two figures began to descend the staircase in front of them. The figures stopped just before the final step and the light began to fade. As it faded Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel immerged from the white glow. The twelve companions stood in awe before the radiance of the two elves. Legolas and Ninniachel had no noticeable changes in their expressions. However the same could not be said for the rest of the Fellowship. Aragorn bowed and placed his fingers to his forehead as a sign of respect. As Frodo gazed upon Galadriel a small tear welled up within his eye but never quite escaped its prison. Sam did not move, his respect for the near divine beings caused him to become paralyzed with wonder. Merry and Pippin stood just in front of Achilles and Odysseus; their mouths hung open in astonishment. Achilles' and Odysseus' chests swelled at the shock of seeing such radiant beauty. Patroclus stepped in closer to Ninniachel and held her hand, to his pleasure she clasped it back. Out of the corner of his eye, Patroclus could see a small smile as it appeared on Ninniachel's face. Gimli stood in front of Boromir silent as his eyes traced the lines on the ground. The dwarf could not bring himself to look into the eyes of the one he had called evil.

"The enemy knows you are here. What hope you had in secrecy is now gone." Lord Celeborn scanned the Fellowship, his icy blue gaze, cold as it washed over each member.

"Twelve there are here, yet thirteen there were, set out from Rivendell. Tell me where is Gandalf? For I much desire to speak with him. I can no longer see him from afar." Lord Celeborn's words commanded much power but none spoke up. Galadriel's eyes fell upon Aragorn's that gleaned only truth from his forlorn gaze.

"Gandalf the Grey did not pass the borders of this land. He has fallen into shadow." Galadriel took a sharp breath as she attempted to hold back the flood of emotions that tried to force their way out. Aragorn nodded slightly, confirming the fear that Celeborn had. Legolas could take no more; he could not stand by and watch others become overwhelmed with sorrow for Gandalf's demise.

"He was taken by both Shadow and Flame: a Balrog of Morgoth." Celeborn looked at Legolas, his cold gaze hardened to stone.

"For we went needlessly into the net of Moria." At Legolas' statement Gimli's head sank. The thought weighed heavily upon his mind. It was he who had convinced the Fellowship to wander the dark path of Moria.

"Needless were none of the deeds of Gandalf in life. We do not yet know his full purpose." Galadriel's gaze fell upon the downtrodden Gimli.

"Do not let the great emptiness of Khazad-dûm fill your heart, Gimli, son of Glóin." Gimli looked up, shocked that she had been able to understand his thoughts.

"For the world has grown full of peril. And in all lands, love is now mingled with grief." Galadriel's eyes met with Boromir for a moment before the steward's son looked away as tears streamed down his face. Galadriel's eyes met with Achilles. The Greek did not look away, nor did he blink. In spite of this, deep within his mind he could hear the voice of Galadriel as she spoke.

"The quest stands upon the edge of a knife. Stray but a little and it will fail, to the ruin of all. Yet hope remains, while company is true. Do not let your hearts be troubled, go and rest for you are weary with much sorrow and toil. Tonight you will sleep in peace." Galadriel eyed Frodo while she spoke. Her voice echoed within his mind.

"_Welcome Frodo of the Shire… one who has seen the Eye!"_

Later that evening, the Fellowship were lead toward hollows formed from the roots of the great Mallorn trees. The twelve companions were granted five hollows, each one nested with moss and Mallorn leaves for bedding. In spite of the knowledge that they were sleeping under trees, the bedrolls laid out for the Fellowship were quite comfortable. More comfortable than anything the Fellowship had slept on since they left Rivendell. As the Fellowship changed into their night clothes the forest started to echo with a beautiful yet melancholy sound of the elves prayer.

_In gwidh ristennin_

_i fae narchannen_

_I Lach Anor ed ardhon gwannen_

_Calad veleg, ethuiannen_

_Mithrandir, A Randir Vithren!_

_Ú-reniathach_

_i amar galen _

_I reniad lín ne môr, nuithannen _

Every member of the Fellowship ceased what they were doing to listen to the melodic chant. Legolas stood in the middle of the Mallorn trees holding a carafe as the music washed over him. All save for Ninniachel looked to Legolas in hopes of understanding.

"It is a lament for Gandalf." Legolas said as he held back tears.

"What do they say about him?" Merry said while he sat up in his bed. He along with the rest of the Fellowship had become entranced by the music.

"I have not the heart to say. For me the grief is still too near." As the music ended Legolas walked off to fill the carafe he still held close to his breast. Achilles stood and followed the elf away from the Fellowship. Sam stared at the ground as he set up his bed roll.

"I'll bet they don't say anything about his fireworks." Sam paused a moment before standing up. His swift action caught the attention of everyone in the Fellowship.

"The finest rockets ever seen, they would burst in colors of red and green." Everyone in the Fellowship listened intently at Sam's poem. All save the dwarf, who had fallen asleep to the melodic chant of the elves. Gimli snored loudly, only to receive the strong fist of Aragorn as it rammed into his rib.

"Or after thunder… silver showers… came falling like a… rain of flowers…" Sam stopped and slumped back onto his bed roll.

"That doesn't do it justice by a long road." Sam hung his head low, laid back onto his bedroll, and attempted to let sleep take him. Aragorn returned to polishing his sword only to notice that Boromir had slipped away from the group. He saw the steward's son sitting on a large root looking out across horizon of Caras Galadhon. Aragorn stood up and strode towards Boromir; the son of a steward seemed to be lost in thought. Just before Aragorn reached him, the man of Gondor spoke up.

"I will find no rest here. I heard her voice inside of my head. She spoke of my father and the fall of Gondor. She said to me 'Even now, there is hope left.' But I cannot see it. It is long since we had any hope." Boromir never turned from the horizon as he spoke.

"Hope is not something that will easily leave a people. What hope has been lost can be found once more." Aragorn stood just behind Boromir and watched the horizon with him. The infinitesimal points of blue white lights shifted as the wind sailed through the trees.

"My father is a noble man. But his rule is failing, and our people… our people lose faith. He looks to me to make things right and I-I would do it. I would see the glory of Gondor restored." Boromir's chest visibly swelled as he spoke. His love for the white city could not be questioned.

"Have you ever seen it Aragorn? The White Tower of Ecthelion, like a spike of pearl and silver. Its banners caught high in the morning breeze. Have you ever been called home by the clear ringing of silver trumpets?"

"I have seen the white city, long ago." Aragorn smiled slightly at the image Boromir had painted within his mind.

"One day, our paths will lead us there. And the Tower Guards will take up the call 'The Lords of Gondor have returned!'" Boromir placed a hand upon Aragorn's shoulder. The Steward's son could not contain the pride he felt towards his home. Within his mind he hoped that Aragorn felt the same way.

Achilles had followed Legolas to a rather secluded spot within Caras Galadhon. There, within a small clearing Legolas knelt to gather clear water from a bubbling spring.

"Why did you follow me so deep into the heart of Caras Galadhon?" The elf queried to Achilles.

"What did the chant say? About Gandalf?" Achilles stood a few feet behind Legolas as he awaited a response.

"It did not say anything about Gandalf. It lamented the demise of one who was so wise among mortals. It was a cry for understanding, why such darkness would befall the world." Legolas stood up from the spring and walked over to Achilles.

The Greek leaned up against one of the roots of the Mallorn trees as his eyes wandered towards the canopy. "She spoke to me. I could hear her voice within my mind. She told me of my fate, of my future. She told me how I would rise to become one of the greatest heroes in legend, but my actions would cause my own demise. It is ironic since the same words were spoken to me by my mother before I left for Troy. Perhaps the fates have already written my path, and I am forced to walk it."

Legolas placed his hand upon Achilles face. "No one's fate is written. Although death may be certain, it is we who choose how to face it. Now tell me Achilles will you face it on your knees, as you wallow in pity about your future? Or will you rise to the occasion and face it as a noble man such as you should?"

Achilles stood there for a moment shocked at the wisdom Legolas had just spoken. In all the time that Achilles had been in the Fellowship, Legolas had never spoken anything that was as profound, or as wise, as what had just flowed off of his tongue. Achilles was not sure how long the two of them stood there before it happened. As Legolas turned to go Achilles, who seemed to be pushed by the gods, grabbed Legolas by the arm and turned him back so that they were face to face once more. Within that moment, he kissed Legolas.

* * *

To anyone who is upset or distraught by this ending, I am basing Achilles off of the original Greek legend, He was not invincible, except for his heel, and he was actually gay. Besides, it is writers privilege. XD


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen**

One by one, as the hours dragged on, each member of the fellowship slowly fell into a deep sleep. Gimli and Aragorn slept soundly beneath the Mallorn tree roots. Ninniachel had fallen asleep atop Patroclus, her bare chest resting upon his. Odysseus' eyes darted from side to side as his mind wove fanciful dreams. Achilles had leaned up against one of the great roots, his sword held tight to his chest as he slept. For even in rest, Achilles refused to be off guard. Legolas slept on the opposite side of the root. Within the moment the two had shared, although neither wished to admit such feelings, they knew that each would need the other. Boromir had returned to his bed roll just before Achilles and Legolas had returned. Before his head even touched the roll his eyes slid shut. Sam turned slightly, shifting his shoulder underneath him. Merry and Pippin slept back to back as those like brothers often do. The Hobbits slept undisturbed beneath the roots, all save one. Fire raged within his mind. An all-consuming flame devoured the land, from the great forests of Mirkwood to the rolling hills of the Shire. Everything that it set its sights upon was destroyed, leaving only ash and dust. The city of Rivendell scorched and burned under its relentless inferno, to the south, far across distant lands, a city, gleaming white marble, burned, and a pale tree, long since dead, withered and cracked from the heat.

Frodo's eyes shot open and he bolted up from his bed. He sat for a while, the sweat dripping from his face. While he sat, Galadriel, her steps soft on the cool grass, strode by. Though never making a motion, or uttering a sound, as though he was beckoned, Frodo rose to his feet and followed the White Lady. Slowly, she descended down into the heart of Caras Galadhon. There, hidden among ancient roots, surrounded upon four sides by statues of Elves, was a pedestal that held a silver basin. Galadriel walked toward a free flowing stream and dipped the ewer she carried into the clear waters. She returned to the pedestal and poured the water into the silver basin.

"Will you look into the mirror?" Galadriel never removed her eyes from the Hobbit.

"What will I see?" Galadriel's face remained stoic.

"Even the wisest cannot tell, for the mirror... shows many things." Galadriel turned her gaze towards the mirror and beckoned Frodo to look.

"Things that were... things that are... and some things, that have not yet come to pass." Galadriel stepped back from the mirror leaving Frodo standing in front of the pedestal. As he gazed into the mirror the only thing to gaze back was a refection of himself. Frodo looked up at Galadriel for an answer. She only nodded her head towards the mirror, bidding him to look once more. Once again he looked upon the mirror only to have images take shape. The image seemed to pull directly from his memory. He saw the Fellowship as they waited upon the platform above Lothlórien. The forlorn looks of his friends as they sat and awaited their judgment by the elf named Haldir. As soon as the image had arrived it vanished once more. Again, the mirror started to mould shapes out of the clear water. The image that appeared before Frodo now was of the Green Dragon. He could see the people inside as they drank and sang. It was just as merry as he had remembered it. Then all at once the merriment and joy vanished as the Green Dragon became engulfed in flames. The hobbits ran to and fro trying to escape ruffians who had descended upon the shire. Once more the image faded, only to be replaced by the burning eye of Sauron. It's gaze strong. Frodo felt as though it attempted to pull the ring towards the mirror. Out of fear, Frodo snatched the ring, pulled away from the fiery gaze, and fell backwards onto the soft grass of Lorien. Frodo pushed himself off the ground and back to his feet. As he stood his eyes met with Galadriel's piercing gaze.

"I know what you saw, for it is within my mind as well." _This is what will come to pass should you fail. The Fellowship is breaking, it has already begun. Eventually he will try to take it. You know of whom I speak. One by one it will consume them all._

Frodo removed the ring from its chain and held it within his hand. _If you wish it... _Frodo opened his hand to Galadriel. _I will give it too you._

Galadriel inhaled slightly. "You offer it to me freely. I do not deny that my heart has greatly desired this."

Galadriel extended her arm outwards, toward the ring. Her hand quaked as she attempted to restrain herself. Her attempted restraint failed as she became engulfed in a dark aura that emanated from the core of her being. Her once flowing white robes, now tattered and torn. Her long blond hair now blackened and windswept. Her beautiful eyes now darkened. Her melodic voice now warped and terrible.

"In place of a Dark Lord you would have a Queen! Not dark, but beautiful and terrible as the dawn! Treacherous as the sea! Stronger than the foundations of the Earth! All shall love me and despair!"

Then, no sooner had it arrived, the dark aura began to dissipate. Her robes returned to their pristine flowing white. Her eyes filled once more with their vibrant blue color. She regained her composure, stumbling slightly as the darkness left her.

"I have passed the test. I shall diminish. I will pass into the west and remain Galadriel." Galadriel turned from Frodo and started to walk away.

"Please, I cannot do this alone." Galadriel turned to face the little Hobbit once more.

"You are a ring bearer Frodo, to bear a ring of power is to be alone." Galadriel held up her hand to reveal a white ring upon her finger.

"This is Nenya, the Ring of Adamant, and I am its keeper. This task was appointed to you Frodo of the Shire. If you do not complete it, no one will." Frodo's hand closed around the ring once more.

"I know what I must do, but I am afraid to do so." Galadriel smiled and knelt down to eye level with Frodo.

"Even the smallest person can change the course of the future." Frodo's eyes started to feel like lead to the small hobbit. The last thing he saw was Galadriel's smile as he slipped from consciousness.

The morning mists hung low as the Fellowship packed their bags. Everyone except for Odysseus packed their traveling gear away. Achilles noticed of his friends lack of action and approached the King of Ithaca.

"Friend, why do you remain? We must be finished and sailing south before Helios reaches his peak of travel." Odysseus looked up at Achilles, who stood over him, a look of annoyance upon his face.

"For give me Achilles, I was lost in thought." Odysseus replied and started to pack his own Fellowship were quickly packed and ready. Each one of the boats laden with traveling gear and food for the journey. As they were about to leave, Haldir approached the Fellowship.

"I behest you wait. You cannot leave without a final fair well from the Lord and Lady. Follow me." Haldir ushered the Fellowship towards a grand courtyard. Within the courtyard stood Galadriel and Celeborn surrounded by nobles of Caras Galadhon.

"The journey ahead of you is a perilous one. You will face many dangers for the enemy still yet seeks what you possess." Celeborn's usual dispassionate tone just barely covered his concern for the situation at large.

"Per our traditions you will each be given a gift. To you Aragorn, son of Arathorn, we gift this scabbard. Any sword sheathed within will never break." Aragorn bowed to Celeborn as he handed him the elvish gift.

Galadriel walked up to Legolas and held out a very ornate bow. The intricate designs carved into the bow belied its deadly capabilities. "We bequeath you, Legolas Greenleaf, a Galadhrim bow. Made from the wood of a Mallorn tree and strung with the hair of our Elven brethren." As Legolas held the bow in his hands he was surprised at how light it was, even for elvish bows. When he pulled back on the bow string he was shocked to feel how smooth the draw was.

Both Merry and Pippin stood ridged as they were approached by Celeborn. Neither of the two Hobbits could have fathomed ever being this far from home. However, neither disliked the feel of adventure and exploration.

"To you young Hobbits, we give the twin blades, Sigil-Ithil, and Sigil-Anor. So long as these two daggers remain together their powers shall protect the both of you from the forces of Darkness." The two hobbits graciously took the daggers. They unsheathed the blades and stared at the artistic craftsmanship. Along the outer edge were elvish inscriptions. The runes on Merry's dagger glowed a soft yellow color that reminded him of basking in the warm sun light of a summer afternoon. The runes on Pippin's dagger glowed in a pale blue light, that appeared to have been pulled from the moon itself.

Galadriel approached Sam and pulled out a small chest with a G rune engraved upon the top. "To you Samwise Gamgee, I give soil from the heart of Caras Galadhon and a Mallorn seed. Use them well in your travels." Sam took the gift half-heartedly.

"Thank you my lady. I don't suppose you have got any more of those fancy daggers?" Galadriel only smiled a the little hobbit before turning to Frodo.

"And to you Frodo Baggans, I give you the Light of Eärendil. Our most beloved star. May it be a light for you in dark places. When all other lights go out." Frodo smiled at Galadriel. Although he knew of the dangers to come he understood what needed to be done.

Celeborn turned back to one of the nobles and picked up a solid gold belt. "To you, Boromir son of Denethor, we bequeath you with this belt. Hewn from the rock in Mirkwood, and shaped in the form of Mallorn leaves. This belt will guide you back from darkness when it seems so close."

"Thank you my lord. I will cherish this gift." Boromir placed the belt around his waist, all the while admiring its beauty and craftsmanship.

Achilles did not dare move as Galadriel approached him. "For you, Lord Achilles of the Myrmidons, we endow you with a mithril shield. Within the heat of battle you will find this shield to be a better companion than and weapon could ever be."

Achilles stared in awe at the intricate shield. The minute details upon the shield were made more dramatic by the use of the gold that outlined each and every structure on the illustration. "Thank you my lady. I do not know what to say. Such a gift is beyond words."

"Then say nothing. Simply enjoy what you have and use it to defend those you love." Galadriel turned towards Patroclus and Ninniachel. She stood, motionless for a time before Lord Celeborn came and stood next to her.

"My lord, what should we give these two who's love has been expressed beyond a shadow of a doubt?" Galadriel watched the two along with Celeborn. Neither of them seemed to take notice that Patroclus had become restless underneath their powerful gaze.

"My Lady, I have an idea as to the proper gift for love between two." Celeborn walked towards a noble and picked up a quill and ink jar. Celeborn glided back to Galadriel.

"Clasp your hands together, and hold them up." Ninniachel did not hesitate and grabbed Patroclus' hand. Before Patroclus even knew what was happening Celeborn started to write elvish script. Celeborn worked methodically, starting on Patroclus' forearm and ending on Ninniachel's. To Patroclus' surprise, the elvish scrip that encircled both his and Ninniachel's fore arms, began to fade. Till no trace of the ink and script remained on their skin.

"What form of magic was that?" Patroclus was beyond stunned. Never before had he seen such fantastic things occur and yet he could not deny what his eyes had just witnessed.

"I have placed an enchantment upon the two of you. So long as your loyalty and love to each other remains true, these bonds will never break. You will always be able to know if the other is in danger." Celeborn returned to Galadriel's side.

"Thank you, my Lord and Lady. You have given us a gift greater than anything this material world could offer." Ninniachel bowed deeply to Celeborn and Galadriel.

Gimli stood near the edge of the group. He could think of nothing that the elves could give him that he could not easily get from his kinsmen in Erebor. Galadriel gracefully converged upon the dwarf's location. As she neared Gimli exhaled slightly.

"And what gift would a Dwarf ask of the Elves?"

Gimli grunted "Nothing." Although, as he looked upon Galadriel again the possibility of a gift came to mind.

"Actually, there is one thing. Bah never mind- it is quite impossible. Stupid to ask."

"Tell my noble Dwarf, what do you request?" Galadriel smiled a Gimli. Her smile put Gimli's mind at ease, and allowed him to voice his desire.

"Perhaps, if you would be so kind, I request one of your hairs." Galadriel giggled at his request. Gimli was about to retort only to be halted by Galadriel speaking up.

"For you Gimli, son of Gloin, I will give you three." Galadriel took a dagger, cut three hairs from her head, and handed them to Gimli.

"You are too kind my lady. Hence forth nothing shall be called fair save the gift you have graciously given me. I shall place them within an imperishable crystal. It will become the heirloom to my kingdom." For the first time that anyone had seen, Gimli shed a single tear.

"Here at last we come to you, Odysseus, King of Ithaca. Have you made up your mind on the gift we have offered you?" Celeborn stood in front of Odysseus, and awaited his answer.

Odysseus stood in silence for a long time. He had gone over the possibilities and outcomes in his mind. He had understood for some time that he would have to make a choice. His only fear was if he had made the right decision.

"I have, and I must thank the both of you for giving me such a rare opportunity. I have decided to take you up on your offer. I know not where this path will lead me but I am sure it is better than the rout I am currently traveling." Achilles walked up to Odysseus and grabbed his arm.

"Odysseus, what are you talking about? What offer was given to you by the Elves?" Achilles eyed Odysseus looking for some sort of answer.

"I do suppose, since I have made my choice already, that you should know of what I speak. I have decided to remain here in Caras Galadhon with the Elves." Odysseus could see the shock in Achilles' eyes as he registered what was just said.

"Odysseus, you must be playing a cruel trick. What do you mean you are remaining here in Caras Galadhon?" Achilles' grip tightened around Odysseus' arm.

Having the desire to not have a broken bone, Odysseus removed Achilles' hand from his arm. "I mean precisely what I have said. I have noticed it ever since we set foot inside those cursed mines of Moria. The Ring is having an effect upon my mind. Every day I can hear it calling to me. Begging me to take it. The cursed thing offers promise of power and wealth for my people. These are things that a King cannot ignore if it means keeping his subjects healthy and happy. As such, I feel that it is within the best interest of the Fellowship if I removed myself from it."

When Odysseus finished speaking Achilles just stood there. To say that he was perplexed or bewildered did not convey the flurry of emotions he felt. The thoughts that raced through his mind were numberless. Each thought brought about a new emotion that could only be described as sorrow, rage, astonishment, and a healthy dose of disbelief, combined into one.

"B-but?" That was the only word he was able to utter as he stepped backwards from the shock. Patroclus' hand upon Achilles shoulder was the one thing that allowed the Myrmidon to regain his footing.

"Achilles it is done. Now if you would be so kind, the rest of you have a journey to finish." Odysseus removed himself from the group and went to stand next to the Elven lords.

"Please, Odysseus, I beg of you to reconsider." Achilles got down on his knees and opened his arms wide.

"Do not fret old friend. I shall return to the Fellowship later. But for now I must remain here." Odysseus walked back to Achilles and hauled him back to his feet.

"Now please, respect my choices and leave me." With that Odysseus turned from Achilles, and the Fellowship, and strode away. Achilles eyes narrowed as he spat a the ground where Odysseus had stood.

"Very well! If it is your desire to leave us and run away then that be your will! But just remember, I shun your friendship hence forth! Remember that when you return to us!" Achilles only heard the words after they left his mouth. He could not believe what he had just told his oldest, and dearest, friend. However the man's pride would not allow him recompense with his friend. Thus Achilles simply turned away and walked towards the boats.

* * *

The pentekonters had been pulled upon dry land and made into makeshift homes. The largest of the pentekonters had been transformed into the kings tent for Hector. There, within the king's tent, Hector planned the construction of the city that would be called home for all the refugees of Troy. As Hector looked over the plans, Paris rushed into the room.

"Brother!" Paris stopped momentarily to take a look at the layout of the city his brother had planned.

Hector turned around and gave Paris a quizzical look. "Why do you burst into my tent unannounced?" Hector hid his annoyance behind the need for understanding his brothers actions.

Paris glanced at the sketches of the city. Every arch way, every gate, was planned to the exact measurements for each objects future placement within the new city. "Sorry, brother, I do not mean to intrude but you should come see what I have found."

"What you have found? What did you find that you cannot tell me?" Hector crossed his arms, his annoyance becoming slightly more pronounced.

"Because, what we have found will save us years of work and toil." As Paris' words flowed off of his tongue they were laced with excitement. The joy just barely contained behind the air of nobility he held.

Hector shook his head. "Fine brother, let us go see what you have discovered. I beg of you that it is not another plant who's fruits are poisonous."

Paris scoffed at his brother's statement. "It was a simple mistake to make. Many fruits look alike."

Hector just sighed and continued to follow his brother. "Might I ask where we are going? Also where is Aeneas? He is supposed to be attending to the formation of the home guard."

"I went and got him when I discovered what I am about to show you. I wanted to make sure that what I had found was truly something worth your time. He is still down there, making sure everything is safe." Paris continued to smile gleefully as they made their way up a rather large dune of sand.

"Making sure it is safe? Paris what are you showing me?" Hector grabbed his brothers shoulder and held him back.

"I am showing you this brother." Paris gestured to a valley between six very large hills. Nestled within the valley was a vibrant and well kept city. The stone work did not appear to be more than a few years old, and the walls around the city were even larger that the walls that had surrounded Troy.

Hector stared in amazement for a while before speaking. "Wh- what? How have we never seen this?"

"It was an easy thing to miss brother. We have only been here for a couple of days and our scouts have only just gone beyond the first ridge of hills. Had I not come out searching for game we might never have found it. The location is perfectly hidden from all sides, and yet it still has a sea port." As Paris finished speaking Aeneas came running up the hill in front of them.

"Brother, I have checked the city per your request. It is completely empty. As though everyone just took their things and left." Aeneas heaved a couple of times, he never was much of a runner. Being on a boat for a year with few landing spots had not helped out much either.

Hector, to both Paris' and Aeneas' surprise, laughed. It was not a light chuckle but a hard laugh. One that lasted for a couple of minutes. Both of the brothers looked at Hector as though his mind had been lost.

"Brother, what is so amusing?" Paris placed his hand upon Hector's back in hopes to quell the laughter.

Hector attempted to speak through the bought of laughter that plagued him. "It is just- just that- we have be- been planning o- on building a new ho- home for ourselves. And- and it looks as though- our new home has- has already been built." Hector finished laughing and stood up straight once more.

"Brothers, you have given the people of Troy another great gift. Welcome to our new home Priamsis, home to the last of the Trojans." Hector placed an arm around both of his younger brothers as they walked back to the camp site. Their spirits were higher than they had ever been over the last year. No news could have ruined their momentary bliss.

* * *

Agamemnon's fleet sailed rapidly with the northerly winds. The phantom king had considered going after the refugees from Troy. However his hatred for Achilles was far greater than his desire for conquest. One of the watchers continued to look for any sign of shore where the massive fleet could rest. Just as his watching shift was about to end, he spotted it. It was small but the white glint of buildings could not be ignored.

"Land Ho!" The watcher bellowed as loud as his lungs could muster.

* * *

The Haven of Umbar was always cooled by the easterly winds that blew in from the coast. The combination of the warm breeze and the sound of the seagulls had caused the shore watcher to become drowsy. The shore watcher often questioned the purpose of his job, for no one ever dared to attack Umbar from the sea. The Corsairs of Umbar always protected its rich trade port from invasions. Just as the watcher's eyes began to slide shut, he noticed something off the coast. He mustered his wits and picked up the spyglass. He scanned the horizon with no avail, that was until his eyes fell upon what he had previously spotted. Sails, sails upon ships that were not recognized by the Corsair council. The watcher grabbed the bell rope that hung from the side of the tower and started ringing it with all the might his arms could muster.


End file.
